Waiting for Totsuka - Outtakes
by Arait
Summary: Coauthoring a story is complicated. This is all our biffs from WFT, plus deleted scenes! Yata and Azami's take on the Black King's appearance. A terrible nightmare. What if the red clan had accompanied Totsuka ice skating? Click here to get a behind the stage view of the making of Waiting for Totsuka. (must read story first)
1. Bloopers - Part 1

_**Dear friends - and everyone who has supported Waiting for Totsuka up until now - Kateracks and Arait would like to thank all of you immensely. Honestly, neither of us have ever had a story as well liked as WFT...ever, so this truly was an amazing experience for us. To see so many of you come back to read each new chapter really is touching, as it makes us feel that maybe you don't want it to end. Neither do we.**_

_**Another new experience for both Kateracks and Arait was coauthoring. Since the beginning of...well forever...we have been writing *for* one another. The ultimate accomplishment was to make something that would surprise the other with its greatness. When we first started trying to write WFT together, we still had this attitude. So Kateracks would be assigned a section, and Arait would be assigned another section. We would write them separately, not saying a word about it until it was finished, trying to create a surprise for the other. This resulted in some VERY BIG misunderstandings, most of which were pretty funny (whether or not Azami should have a tattoo was *not* a funny misunderstanding, which would most likely be why it's not in the outtakes). Once Azami and Fushimi were in scenes together, we realized this approach would totally not work, and we learned how to write together for real.**_

_**Anyways, this story is intended to be our mistakes, alternate ways scenes could have played out, deliberate bloopers, and some deleted scenes that we could have written but didn't for one reason or another. We've tried to add context as a reminder of where in the story each part comes from, but it might be necessary to read this with WFT in another tab. Maybe I'll add which chapter they're from real quickly as reference. Hopefully this can tide all of us over until Missing Kings is on the internet and Kateracks and Arait can get more inspiration for a sequel. By the way, we're still waiting to hear from you guys whether you even want a sequel or not. So far only mst88 has given input. Maybe only she will get to read it...**_

_**Anyhow, first: BLOOPERS**_

* * *

Chapter - The Truth Revealed

She was a little surprised by the cheerful tinkling of a bell above her and the greeting, "Hello, welcome to HOM—Ah?" The person behind the counter turned to reveal it was Yata and confusion lined his face along with a little anger...Yata glared and moved around the counter, taking hold of a bat that he had propped in the corner. "This isn't neutral territory, and I've had enough of your mouth."

He charged through the space between them in a second, currents of fire spiraling out from his chest and down around his being until he was covered in curling, spitting tongues of flame. Azami maintained her cool exterior, but the green aura of her clan was bubbling up inside her and she did her best to channel it into her fists hidden in her sweatshirt pockets and only her fists. If she didn't catch the pyro off guard, her plan might not work, and she'd end up as a hunk of charred meat. Still, try though she did, she felt a tingling go through the hair at her scalp and green sparked across her vision.

She watched only the bat, and when it swung, she ducked underneath and moved toward him, ripping her hands out of the pockets and shoving them against his chest. The unexpected discharge knocked a breath out of the boy moving him back a few inches, but did little more harm than a mini explosion that left the impact zone and Azami's hands smoking but uninjured.

The distraction didn't last as long as Azami would have hoped, nor prove the seriousness of why she had come there to the vanguard. She didn't even get to start her explanation when he ran toward her again, but then he found himself skidding to a halt when she held up a plain hand in front of his face saying, "Stop." So firm was the order that he complied out of confusion. Who was _she_ to command him _here_?

"I bet I can convince you in five words not to kill me," she added.

His mind processed that and then went through immediate options of what she could say so that he _might_ spare her life. _I came to apologize._ No, that was only four words. _I think you were right._ That was five, but he had a hard time believing that she'd actually say that, even to save her life. _I want to join HOMRA._ That was five, too, but he would never let that happen, and she looked like she felt awfully comfortable in green. Whatever her message was, it had to be something urgent then.

"Better speak fast."

"I could kick your ass."

Yata's jaw dropped. "What? Bring it on!"

* * *

Chapter - The Truth Revealed (Also)

Yata walked up to the two leaders, skateboard under his arm, leading the green clansman as if she were a prisoner of war come to plea her case before the general...Kusanagi waited for the boy to begin his exciting account of what had brought them to this meeting...Through with the examination, he gestured at them both, but asked directly of Yata, "What is this about?"

The boy stood straight like he had just remembered their original purpose in being there and that he felt he had accomplished something great in bringing her to them as he proceeded to explain, "Hayashi, Azami came into the bar and said—'"

"Yata-chan," Kusanagi scolded, anger piercing through his glare, "I thought I told you no lame bar jokes!"

* * *

Chapter - Decoding the Mystery

The atmosphere was lively. Bubbly music played in time with colorful splotches of light that danced across the rink in random patterns. Since it was the weekend, the ice was crowded with young children, entire families, and youths skating hand in hand as couples. Falls were happening left and right from the inexperienced, and occasionally someone talented would dart by with an awe-inspiring trick.

In spite of all this, somehow Totsuka felt as if Emi was the only other person there with him. That had, in fact, resulted in quite a few near-crashes during which he had struggled to stay on his feet. He didn't mind, though, because when Emi covered her mouth to laugh at his clumsiness, he felt like the accident had been worth it...

About halfway through open-skate, a young girl with pale skin and a red dress glided up to Emi. Looking up at her with unmoving eyes, the girl commented, "I like your bow."

Caught off guard, Emi almost pulled away. The girl had sneaked up on her silently and directly, without wavering. Her expression was cold like the ice. Emi realized after the initial shock, though, that she knew this girl. At second glance, her rosy cheeks and eyes fixed upon the red bow made her appear more alive than normal. It seemed she also had no trouble keeping her feet on the slippery skating rink.

"Anna," Totsuka called out to her as he joined the two girls, "what are you doing here?"

"Mikoto sent me to watch you," she answered plainly, clearly unaware that she was likely supposed to keep an eye on him without being noticed.

Totsuka laughed even though he was frowning. He sent Anna? Besides the fact that Totsuka had specifically told him there was nothing to worry about, that he would be fine, and not to send anybody with him, why had he sent the youngest member of Homra? While she could blend in with the other children on the rink fairly well, and it was clear she at least knew how to skate, she wouldn't necessarily be any better off in a battle situation than Totsuka himself. Then, another thought came to him, and he glanced urgently around the building. Was he supposed to look after her while they skated, or had she come with the whole red clan?

"Are you alone?"

Her response was clear and silent, a single shake of her head in the negative. Others had come with her. Totsuka quickly tried to identify who had come, looking first at the rink itself. No one in particular stood out. Then, he turned his attention to the bleachers around them, and a flash of red hair caught his eye. Mikoto sat there glaring at the whole building full of potential threats, condensed breath against the frosty air blowing from his mouth instead of smoke. Beside him, Yata was bundled from head to toe in winter clothes, shivering furiously, but also looking ready to snap at anyone who attacked. Kamamoto and Dewa looked like body guards behind them.

Then, Totsuka was able to see them all. Chitose skated by with a girl on his arm, blending perfectly into the setting. Kusanagi was practicing his backward skating in one of the elongated ends. Fujishima very patiently tried to explain to Bandou how to stay on his feet, while the latter seemed frustrated as he bent over, clinging to the wall, about ready to give up.

They were _all_ there. Even Fushimi stood disinterestedly by the door as if calling into question why he had been required to tag along to such a crowded place. At the same time, Totsuka could tell that he was discretely observant with his knives at the edge of his grasp. The boy who had been expecting a harmless date felt his temperature rise with some anxiety. If people got the impression this was a takeover by a group of boys somewhat giving the appearance of a gang, they would take their children and their girlfriends and leave.

A hush fell over the whole arena, and Totsuka realized he wasn't the only one feeling that heat. The ice had started to melt so that all their skates were standing in water up to the top of their blades. Someone must have seen the intimidating position of the four in the stands because a whisper spread through the crowd which then became a panic.

Some froze, unable to move. Others thought they could escape by moving subtly. When one of the hanging, fluorescent lights on Mikoto's side of the rink sputtered, sparked, and came crashing down, though, they ran. Screaming, everyone evacuated the scene. Only Emi remained, eyes wide with fright, staring at Totsuka for direction. He hadn't fled the building, so she stayed. The couple stood in four inches of water with their chaperon Anna horrified at how their date had been prematurely ended by his friends.

* * *

_**We sincerely hope you enjoyed this. We've never tried to do anything like this before, so our fingers are crossed that it turned out well. Keep an eye out for more!**_


	2. Falling Compilation

_**Kateracks: (In dramatic voice) FALLING COMPILATION...of people falling...because it's funny.**_

* * *

"Mikoto-san," Kamamoto began, but he couldn't manage to say more than just their leader's name.

"Hmm?" The redhead responded, hardly moving at all from his sprawled position.

"Have you been here this whole time?"

Mikoto answered in the affirmative with a tiny, "Mm." Not that it would have made a difference. He clearly wouldn't have improved the uncomfortable atmosphere by coming down right away. Now, his visual display of careless confidence was unnerving the timid girl even more. Her eyes were wide open and her hands tucked tightly between her knees to keep them from shaking.

"You're scaring her," Kamamoto pointed out.

Lifting his head, Mikoto raised an eyebrow at Emi as if to take a deeper look at the unexpected visitor. After the second glance, he had the same impression of her as with the first. Because of Kamamoto's suggestion, however, he nodded, thinking that served as both a greeting and an introduction.

* * *

Emi swallowed hard. Totally overwhelmed, she stood, announcing, "I guess I'll come back later." Having tried to speak with determination, she was surprised that it came out sounding so uncertain. Becoming dizzy, her knees wobbled, and she sat back down with Kamamoto's help, held captive by Mikoto's powerful aura. She was barely able to express her gratitude to her waiter for catching her before she went completely faint.

It was night. Not particularly dark or stormy, but there was a distinct chill creeping into the air, warning of the impending manifestation of winter. The city was more calm than its usual atmosphere as its citizens were all getting ready for bed and the steady flow of lights going out from block to block gave it a rather abandoned look. It is in a dead-end alley of one of these city blocks that we find the skateboarding captain of the Red Clan.

But contrary to the introduction, Yatagarasu was in no danger in this dark, lonely location. Nor was his back even against the wall. No, rather, he was facing the brick with a look of pure determination. He stood uncharacteristically silent for so long, just staring down the unmoving obstruction that, had any of his fellow clan members or some unfortunate passersby noticed him, they may have feared for the boy's sanity. But then, quite unexpectedly, he moved.

He jumped, in fact. He leaped upward and braced his sneakers against the brick above where he had just been looking; his hands came up and by his movements, it appeared as though he would scramble right up the surface. Or…he would have tried if there had been a place for him to grip.

"GAAAH!" ricocheted down the alley as the young pyro came crashing down flat on his back. Yata lay defeated, though not of his own volition, sucking in oxygen to replenish that which had been let out of his sails, as it were. Then, with a groan, he rolled onto his side and abruptly pounded the pavement with his fist.

"Damnit!" he growled and pushed himself into a slouched sitting position, elbows resting on his drawn up knees. He glared at the unfortunate mortar before him and demanded of it, "How the hell did she do that? It was like she was frickin' Spiderman or something."

* * *

As soon as the first man stepped foot in the oil, not even noticing it was there, Totsuka chucked his molten phone at the ground near the barrel. Flame flared up, far bigger than anything he could have conjured alone, and it filled the entire gap between the two rows of shipping containers. With them burning, or at least pushed back, Totsuka turned to run. His vision swirled, blackening on the edges. Heavy footed and weak limbed, he tripped over the first step, falling to his knees.

_I've overdone it, haven't I?_ He wondered when he tried to stand and couldn't get his feet underneath him.

* * *

She ran along a short brick wall containing some flowers, did a front flip onto a drinking fountain laid into a mosaic feature and off onto the back of a bench, scaring the shirts off of a couple who were passionately saying goodbye. She couldn't help but smirk and then she drew in a breath and shot toward a bit of decorative molding on a gazebo housing the description of the train's routes. The metal dug into her skin while she heaved herself up with a grunt and then she rolled herself over the peak and slid down the incline of the other side, right onto the waiting branch of a sakura tree.

The screeching of metal on metal as the train began to leave met her ears and she scrambled around the trunk to a branch hanging close to the tracks. She barely had time to think before she had to leap out onto a passing car. Her knees met the sturdy metal with a solid crash and Azami grit her teeth to keep from shouting a curse that would reach the ears of young children at the station behind them. She'd like to see that skater boy keep up with her doing _that_.

The thought brought a small smile to her lips and then she remembered why she was expending herself so vigorously. Raising her eyes to the passing scenery, she scanned the area for the black Sedan. If she was lucky, it would be stopped at one of the crossings.

"Or under the bridge," she realized and looked in that exact direction. Sure enough, the Sedan was cruising down the curving road to an old cemetery.

Azami drew herself up and leaped off of her speeding ride. She should have judged the landing better. The grass down below, though soft was lushly covering a steep shoulder along the tracks. She realized this too late and once her feet hit, shooting pain up her legs, she had enough time to tuck into herself before she tumbled down the hill and straight into a creek.

_But I bet he would have _loved_ to see that wipeout_, she thought as she held down a shriek when the chilled water met her bare flesh. She slogged forward to a flat rock and climbed out, skipped across several more and then sneaked swiftly to the wrought iron gate of the cemetery that was the boundary of her territory.

* * *

_Sometimes there were things in the tunnel other than sewer products and furry vermin. One time, a shoelace had brushed against Emi's leg, sending a shiver through her whole body, but she had been able to recognize the sneaker shortly thereafter. A lot of kids' toys had been lost down there, as well as a variety of garbage. For a while, she wondered if that rumor about dangerous wild animals such as alligators being let loose in the sewers were true._

_Then, her foot caught against something hard, cold, and metallic. _This is your chance,_ flashed through her mind. The plan that came to her at first thought was a horrible one. She knew she didn't have enough time to come up with another one with how quickly they were moving. Squishing her face into a look of dread and disgust, she took a breath in preparation._

_She deliberately fell backward into the water. The shriek, she thought, was pretty believable. They would probably trust it had been an accident, even as her right hand wrapped tightly around whatever metal object she had kicked. Grasping her left arm tightly, the ghostly, possibly male, figure ripped her back to her feet, and she swung the stray scrap of rebar at his head._

* * *

Kneeling beside the guards, Dewa took a deep breath and then began, "Um, excuse me, Sir, do you happen to know where Emi-san is?" When he received no response, he continued in more detail. "Haruna, Emi, that is. You do know who she is, right?"

Fujishima made an awkward sound like he had something important to point out but didn't want to interrupt. Eventually, he mentioned uncertainly, "They're both out cold."

Dewa stopped questioning the men before him then, noticing also that they were in no condition for giving answers. "How does Mikoto-san expect us to ask them anything?"

The response came in the form of a body flying through the wall, past them to the koi pond by the fence.

"We need to keep up with him," the one with glasses decided urgently, and both boys rushed inside the building.

* * *

Totsuka stood at the bottom of the stairs to the entrance, arm slung across his blond friend's shoulders for support. He had surprised Kusanagi by requesting that they stop for a moment. Eyes closed, he breathed calmly as if trying to build strength to appear before his friends—the only family he had—with pride, without making them worry about him in pity. He couldn't let them get the impression that they could no longer depend on him.

"I can walk myself," he decided, dropping his arm from Kusanagi and stumbling weakly to the side.

The bar master watched his friend's feet get jumbled. Knowing very well that Totsuka could _not_ walk himself, even if he managed to not fall just then, he also recognized the look of determination on the boy's face. For that reason, he didn't refuse. Anna looked up at them curiously from behind, standing motionlessly on the sidewalk as if she could not enter the bar until she was absolutely convinced Totsuka would make it.

Lifting a foot, he tried to take his first step onto the stairs. His right leg couldn't bear the weight of his whole body, though, giving out before his left came down again. That made his left fall harder than expected and slide sideways off the stair. He collapsed on his knees in the manner of an inflatable Whacky-Man that had just lost its supply of air. Thankfully, Kusanagi was able to throw an arm around his chest before his face hit the concrete. The blond lifted him up to the top of the stairs.

As he reached for the door, he stopped, asking Totsuka, "Do you want to try again?"

Stabilizing himself with his feet beneath him, the boy nodded. He could do it this time. The ground would be flat from here on out.

Agreeing, Kusanagi added, "Stick to the wall, so you have something to lean on, and go straight to the couch." Upon Totsuka's second nod, the taller one pulled the door open.

Each step carefully measured, Totsuka had made it over the threshold and slid his feet twice more across the smooth, hardwood flooring when all those who were scattered around the room noticed his entrance. All having heard the true story by then, there was a collective feeling of relief to see him. Unable to contain himself, Yata—who had been worried about Totsuka longer than any of the other clansmen—rushed over to him. The intended hug ruined Totsuka's fragile balance. Flapping his arms, he tried his best to stay upright but finished in a heap on the floor after losing his footing.

Yata stood, staring in shock at the disoriented boy beneath him. Neither of them really knew how he had gotten down there. This was the first any of them had seen of how weakened he had become. Just as Mikoto had guessed, it had a profound effect on them. It really sank in hard when Totsuka tried to prop himself back up on an elbow but failed to do so several times.

"I'm alright; I'm alright," he assured from the floor, carefree smile convincing no one for once. Eyes pinched tightly closed in a forced expression that was either extremely happy or sad, he laughed. The more he laughed the more it sounded pained until he stuttered out through the hysteria, "I'm stuck. I'm really stuck."

* * *

Azami cried out when a sharp pain sliced its way into her left calf, and her aura faltered. Her lower half went slack from his power, and her fingers released from the unexpected pain. She dropped like a sack of flour. The breath was knocked from her lungs. The ninja vanished.

Or it appeared that way to Azami. Her vision went dark for a second, and there was a buzzing sound in her ears. Actually, it wasn't in her ears.

Gasping, she rolled to her side and looked down the level floor to the source by her feet. A fuse was sticking out of a PVC pipe and sparkling bright. It certainly wasn't a smoke bomb; this kind would seriously wound her. Her mind reeled to think of a way out—_fast_.

There was a window behind her. If she moved _now_ she might be able to make it.

She was on the third floor.

Well…She'd fallen from great heights before…

A scream brought Yata's attention to the third floor windows. There was a glare, but he could tell that there were two people struggling, and he assumed Azami had gotten their man. But then they both abruptly disappeared from sight.

He jogged back toward the entrance and hollered, "What's going on, Hayashi?" and again when he got to the doorway, "Hayashi!"

At that very moment, the building shook with an explosion and Yata covered his face as the window he'd been looking at rained down glass, but that wasn't all. A girl, too, had been blasted out of the opening and was falling fast, deadly looking fragments shining in the sun around her.

"Azami!" Yata shouted.

As fate would have it, she had also managed to jump just in time so the force of the blast propelled her far enough that her head wouldn't be splattered all over the concrete. Not as luckily, she had been flung over the docking area and had nothing nearby to save herself. She twisted in the air a little, but it really didn't change her options.

The wind was blowing in her favor, though, and a flag on one of the docked boats caught her up. Even though it ripped off with her as she passed by, it slowed her descent some. It wasn't any less painful when she dropped down beside the vessel and crashed through a wooden gangplank, but at least she didn't break her neck.

Yata ran over to the splash zone, expecting to see a gruesome scene, but instead was met with the sight of a white chunk of cloth being flailed around as if two gophers were playing tag underneath it. Eventually, one escaped, and Azami freed herself from the weight that could have drowned her. The action seemed to drain all of her energy, and she just floated on her back, breathing ragged. Or maybe she was laughing; it was hard to tell.

"Oh shit…I can't believe I let that happen! Ow…!"

Yeah, she was laughing. Laughing! She had just been blasted out of the third floor of a building, demolished a dock, and nearly drowned and she was laughing! Yata always thought she was short of a full deck anyway.

"Hey, get over here and help me out!" she called to him, and he decided it must be the adrenaline. She slowly started to paddle, but she was holding her ribs with one hand.

"Hang on," he said and ran over to the boat she had almost sunk with her head. There was a life preserver, and he threw that to her and began reeling her in. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I did what you told me to."

"I didn't tell you to blow up the damn building!"

He braced his sneaker against the guardrail and pulled her onto the deck with a little help from her good side. She lay on her back for several minutes just breathing and then smiled jokingly up at him as best she could, "That's the last time I listen to _you_!"

* * *

Yata began the descent to his room, intent on playing a game on his hand-held device while he waited to hear the results of of Fushimi's handiwork. He didn't give any thought to the fact that there was a girl in their hideout who could still be changing clothes. And indeed she was; though, she was half finished by that point.

He froze in the middle of the ladder at the sight of the bare back facing him. At first, he was merely shocked by the prominent feathery wings that were tattooed on each shoulder blade and curved gracefully down either side of her spine to just above her hip bones. In between her shoulder blades was scrawled a message, but a strip of black and blue bruise that crossed from the base of her neck to under her right shoulder made the words hard to read. Dark was beginning to spread from her back to her left side where she'd been holding her ribs. Clad in cargo shorts, it was easy to see the gash in her left calf, too.

Yata felt anger burn into his gut at the thought of how that black bastard had beat up on one of his team, but it abruptly turned to cold sweat when he realized Azami was not one of his HOMRA family. She was a girl and she was _topless_ in his _room_.

He did his best not to scream, but some nervous movement he made caused one sneaker to slip off the rung he was perched on with a loud squeak. He let out a little yelp then and flailed to keep hanging on with his sweaty palms.

Fushimi brought up the camera picture, and she nodded that it was the correct spot. He brought up another search bar. "What time?"

"Just before seven."

He rewound the feed to seven o'clock, and then slowed until he saw motion, at which point he hit play. Instead of a ninja, though, he saw the side of a building explode in a fiery blaze of glory that launched a female figure from the third floor.

Beside him, Azami rushed to say, "It was before that. Maybe around back."

* * *

As they came out of the alley, Azami spotted a bike rack and hopped onto it the way she described. "See? You want to balance on the balls of your feet and keep your body aligned. Don't let your knees go past your toes."

She slid off so that she could put all her weight on her one foot and then gestured him forward. "You try."

Yata gave her a surprised look, but since the side street she had led him to was somewhat less congested, he thought he'd give it a shot. He copied her jump and landed on the balls of his feet, but the position felt awkward and he failed to catch his balance, toppling backward.

* * *

Azami cut into a park. She spoke to him as they weaved through people, "You're gonna vault over that picnic table. Keep your speed constant and angle your body when you jump. Take off and land on the same foot and keep your hips high."

She showed this technique directly in front of him and seemed to fly over the table with no effort, only her hand planting lightly on the surface as she passed to mark its position in her mind. He copied her actions, but he realized when he was too low that he had taken off too late and had been thinking too much about it so a bit of hesitation had slowed him just a smidge. His hip where he balanced his board caught on the wood and he tumbled forward. Azami stopped as he picked himself off the ground.

* * *

Yata was almost shocked when they got to the train station already. They were coming in further down than when Azami had been pursuing Emi's captors, but it still took half the time that Yata's planned route to avoid the family crowds would have. The main entrance to the station consisted of a large staircase, and he had a brief moment of apprehension.

"I need my board. I can grind those rails," he said aloud.

"Reset your skater brain," Azami ordered from his side. "You don't need rails."

She ran toward the drop-off beside the stairs and he mimicked her, staying right by her side, trusting she wouldn't intentionally drop them 20 feet straight down. They leaped over the guard rail…

His feet met the rough stone of one of the rectangular planters staggered down the side of the staircase wall. He hit with his heels, a sting jolted up his hips, and he dropped into a roll right into the flower bed.

"Midfoot!" Azami barked, but didn't stop for him.

"I know!" he snapped back and climbed out of the crushed flora to the stone edge.

* * *

Yata continued standing awkwardly while people walked by wondering what this mean young boy had done to that poor girl. Eventually, he sighed and untied his skateboard from his back. It clattered to the ground in front of her.

"It's my turn," he said.

"To torture me?" Azami guessed.

"Get on," Yata commanded.

With a grunt, she shoved herself to her feet and put one foot on the board. Yata waved her onward impatiently, but she halfway expected him to kick it out from under her. There was no need. As she lifted her other foot, the board moved forward and she toppled the reverse. Her back met the wall.

"Son of a—!" she growled through grit teeth.

"What are you doing?" Yata yelled. "You can spin on walls and jump over ice cream carts, but you can't balance on a skateboard?"

* * *

"If you think you can do it without falling on your face, try giving a little push with your foot," Yata instructed.

Azami wasn't too sure she liked the role reversal, but she listened anyway and when she was stable enough, she made a small kick off from the toe of her left shoe. It wasn't the usual way to ride, but it was easier for her to put all her moving weight on her good leg. Several such moves later had them at the tracks where they could see the graveyard. The train wasn't due for another 15 minutes so Azami walked across the tracks.

At the edge of the hill, she set Yata's board on the ground and then took a seat, scooting herself down the incline. She wasn't stupid enough to try riding it standing up, nor running down. Yata, however, was not concerned and vaulted over the tracks to a ground that was too steep, and it caused him to have to tuck and roll to the bottom.

Azami laughed lightly at his expense. "You need to judge your landings better." She wasn't about to admit that just a couple days ago she had done the same thing.

* * *

A fine red mist sprayed from Yata's shoulder as the bullet fired grazed his skin. Azami's heart sped up as tendrils of liquid weaved down his arm toward the light of his watch. She felt her lips move, but she didn't hear herself yell "Yata!" over the ringing in her ears. He staggered out of the way, but the strain must have heard her. He glared at her over his shoulder and his body twisted around in an odd flowing manner that resulted in her getting a kick to the chest despite her being about five feet away. Her sneakers slipped in the grime and the contusions on her back screamed when they slammed into the ground.

* * *

"You're starting to feel comfortable around here, aren't you, Hayashi, Azami?" Kusanagi remarked about the way she was leaning her elbows on his counter just the same as another boy he knew would.

From that angle, Azami could easily see behind the man and caught sight of Totsuka sitting on the floor. It had been logical for the owner of the bar to be ducked behind the counter, possibly getting into lower cupboards, but now she could tell that whatever Kusanagi had been doing was related to the younger boy.

For this reason, she responded in kind to the blond, "Oh…? Have I interrupted something? I thought we were trying to save a girlfriend. What's all this?"

"You're hilarious…" Kusanagi's humor was dry, reminding her this was no time to play.

"I'm here to serve."

The mock bow gesture she gave made it difficult to tell if she was still joking. As she stepped around the bar, though, her cocky attitude dissipated, and she crouched next to Totsuka, concern at his still ashen skin lacing her face.

"Damn, man, what are you even doing out of bed?"

Totsuka looked up then with a weak smile on his face but lacking the necessary luster in his eyes. He hadn't met this girl before, but he had picked up bits and pieces about her from half-heard conversations. Kusanagi had even mentioned offhandedly once how she had gotten involved in the search for Emi, so he diverted around the normal wariness of first time meetings and went straight to friendly, in spite of his now having noticed what the wrinkle in the bartender's nose had been about.

"I'm fine. Do you have anything to report, Hayashi-san?"

Azami met Kusanagi's gaze with her own and then admitted, "Yeah, I've got some good news for you."

Before she could go on, Totsuka raised a finger, grinning. He had barely acknowledged her words but decided he wanted to stand, commenting mostly to himself, "I probably should find a better place to sit, shouldn't I?"

Azami watched curiously as Totsuka first seemed to get dizzy, and then had his knees buckle on the second step. Her eyes widened when he nearly didn't catch himself on the counter, and she hurried to stand at his side. She didn't need to offer her assistance, though, as he basically fell on her. Once she had shifted around to better accommodate the weight, she handed the bowl of noodles to Kusanagi.

He felt a strange mix of inconsiderateness, weakness, and awkwardness as he watched a _girl_ who wasn't even of their own clan sling his friend's arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight as they limped over to one of the sofas. In the end, he justified himself by concluding that Azami's motherly instincts had reacted faster than his friendship ones.

* * *

The cathedral was relatively gloomy for a place supposedly known for its enlightenment. The slanted walls were made of some sort of streaked concrete, giving the impression that blood ran down from the peak high above them. Hundreds of pews distanced them from an elaborate, marble stage, behind which a huge cross reached halfway to the full height of the ceiling.

Awed, Totsuka waltzed into the broad aisle, staring above him. "Oh, it's so high," he remarked.

"Don't look up," Kusanagi cautioned. "You'll get dizzy."

The warning came too late, however, and Totsuka was lucky that Fujishima was standing near him when he started to stumble. They made it safely to one of the wooden benches.

* * *

One of the reapers came down the hall they were entering. Locking eyes with the silent teens for an instant, he turned to flee back in the direction he had come from. With a loud roar that set fire to his body, Yata threw his skateboard to the floor and began pursuit. His wheels in the smooth hallway allowed him to easily close the gap, so that he quickly cornered the black clansman against a wall. _This is too easy,_ he thought as he raced in for his attack.

When the other two teens caught up to their friend, he sat on the floor, confused and rubbing his eyes. His skateboard was at least ten feet away. The reaper was nowhere in sight. They knew something had gone wrong.

"What happened?" Azami inquired.

Hearing their approach, Yata scurried to his feet to save face. He knew they saw his lightheaded wobble, so he just answered truthfully, "That Asshole flicked me in the face, and I blacked out."

* * *

"Where could he have gone?" Yata thought hard, considering things like doors hidden behind enormous paintings and the like. There was nothing like that, though. In the space between the two points was only one large, wooden structure. A cross was carved into the wood, along with various other engravings that shaped its edges. Rapping obliviously on one of its three doors, he concluded, "Just this doll house, right?"

"That's," Azami began, pausing to think of the best way to say it. Eventually, she decided to keep it simple, "not a doll house, Red. It's a confessional."

"I know that," he assured forcefully, and he tried to justify what he had said. "I was speaking...like, uh, figuratively, you know?"

"Right," the girl agreed sarcastically. "Do you even know what a confessional is?"

"Yes," he shot back. His face betrayed him, though, turning the bright shade of a cardinal's cassock.

"Wrong kind of confession," Fushimi brought out, looking like two nights of staying up past midnight was too much for him.

With that hint, Azami also understood what the blush meant. "Are you seriously thinking about middle-school kids confessing with Valentine's Day chocolates in a photo booth at the mall?" She asked in disbelief.

"N-no," Yata denied.

Then, without properly explaining to him what it really was, the other two stared at it solemnly for a short while. Azami broke the silence, inquiring, "So which of you two is going in there?"

"I already unwillingly confessed everything today," Fushimi reminded, referring to his encounter with Anna and truly blaming Azami for the results of _that._

"All right, Yatagarasu then," she deduced. "Let the vanguard live up to his title."

"Why not you?" The one chosen replied. Not comprehending their hesitance, he simply didn't like the idea of being volunteered for the job.

"That would take too long," she answered, and—while it was clearly still a joke—a heavy sadness weighed the words down.

By that point, Yata could recognize it. Her tone was not as tragic as it had been at times, but he knew when to take her seriously. She actually had a good reason to not want to go in the wooden room, even if she wouldn't say what her reason was. Respecting that, he took courage, prepared himself mentally for whatever they were afraid of, and ripped open a door.

Based upon their reactions to the idea, he had thought himself the greater man for stepping up. For that reason, he was quite surprised that there was nothing within. The small space was shoulder width and looked like it could hold no more than one person. On each side wall was a sliding panel. Taking a step inside, Yata moved one of the screens, still expecting something would shock him. It only opened to another, equally empty, compartment. The two sides could see, but not reach, each other. A design like that reminded him of how prisoners could visit with family members who came to see them: across a pane of glass.

That was still no reason to fear an empty room. As he turned to fetch his friends—whom he now considered cowardly—his foot caught on the edge of the floor by the lip of the door. When he fell to his knees, he realized that this "confessional booth" was situated on a soft spot of the floor. Before he could react, the rotten boards crumbled beneath him. He barely managed to grab a part of the floor that wasn't caving in with one hand, but the whole wooden structure crashed to the level below.

Fushimi met him at the edge of the hole and gazed downward. Rather than extending a helpful hand, he stated in a way that appeared condescending—perhaps just because of their respective positions, "Don't bother climbing back up."

While he dangled there, entire body weight hanging from one arm, he really could think of no good reason to say such a thing and responded harshly, "Why the hell not?"

Azami crouched beside the boy in glasses, looking like she was trying to plan out a path to the bottom. "'Cause that's where we want to be," she answered, pointing to the basement of which they had just created an entrance.

* * *

A burst of black aura missed her by inches and destroyed the glass surrounding the spear. Had it been upright, Azami surely would have been impaled but it had been mounted at an angle to show the length of the weapon. Because of this, she had a place to land that wasn't really big enough for the balls of her feet, but luckily the sneakers Yata had given her still had some traction left, and that helped her to stick it.

Looking over her shoulder, though, she saw another black onslaught coming her way. Jumping up over the first, she powered her feet over her head so that she twisted into a sort of aerial barrel roll. The second burst of aura grazed her back and she landed on the pedestal with the vase much to the surprise of the reaper. He was even further stunned when she smoothly scooped up the fancy ornament and smashed it into the side of his head.

Outraged, he swung his arm blindly and knocked one foot out from under her. Azami fell backwards and her shoulders met the sharp edge of the pedestal with the spear so that she was stretched between the two like a bridge. From there, she could see above her deep grooves in the stone that she was certain she could use to get above him and grasped the well-grounded spear so she could worm her way between its mountings. She was intent on using the incline to reach the grooves, but the Black Clansman was in hot pursuit and very abruptly the base disintegrated from underneath her. She crashed to the floor and when she looked up from the mess of glass, there was a ghostly figure over her, holding a spear.

* * *

Azami took her hand in greeting and rushed through an introduction. "Hayashi, Azami, nice to meet you. Are you hurt?"

"No, not yet," Emi replied, risking a glance over her shoulder.

The Green Girl, too, spared a look behind her toward the advancing voices. "Good. We need to run so it stays that way."

She decided against continuing on the same trail since that was where Emi had come from, and she assumed that the older female would have taken the way out if there was one. Keeping a tight grasp on the other's hand, Azami made an executive decision and ducked into the nearest branch turning right. They ran for quite a distance until a wide crevice yawned open in front of them. Azami dug her heels into the stone and stepped sideways in front of Emi to stop her from tumbling into the depths.

Yata was not so graceful. He had been looking for their pursuers when Azami moved out of the way and almost ran headlong into the pit. Both the Green Girl and Fushimi grasped the back of his shirt, jerking him backward just in time.

* * *

"Go," Fushimi ordered.

"But—"

"_Go_," the taller male said again, more forcefully as he stepped up on the chandelier so his friend could get a running start.

Yata didn't waste anymore time, and he rushed forward with a little spurt of energy, running on the balls of his feet like Azami taught him. He was faster now, and it made the jump that much easier, even if the hard landing reminded him that he still needed to learn more.

He called advice back to Fushimi. "If you're fast, the chandelier doesn't tip much."

Even if he had looked as though he weren't paying attention, Fushimi had keyed in with at least a small portion of his brain to the instructions Azami had given Emi. He took off at the best run he could manage, the chain holding the light fixture jingling with each shift of his weight. He didn't know the trick to running light like Yata had learned. Still, he picked up sufficient speed and, feeding Azami's information back to himself, he managed to launch with enough force that his feet connected with the edge of the platform.

But as, old structures do when put under too much new force, a portion under his right foot crumbled, and he slipped backward. For an instant he felt himself fall to his death and saw everything go black, right before a familiar helping hand latched onto his wrist and pulled him back. Just like it always did. Fushimi brushed off Yata's assurance of "I've got ya", stepped to the wall, and sliced through the chain holding the chandelier all in one motion. The reapers and ninjas blocking the opposite opening stopped short in their chase, cursing toward their targets.

* * *

A deep sound boomed through the hollow room, interrupting their interactions. "Oi." A monster of red, something like a flare of light on the darkest night, shoved off the wall from which he had casually observed them. Deciding it had gone too far to be fair leaving Totsuka on his own, the redhead crushed his cigarette with his boot. "If you wanna fight, pick someone who actually can."

His first step toward the three shot flames scattering across the floor. He left a series of melted footprints in his wake as a steam rose around him, mixing with the wisps of fire that licked at his skin, lifting off his arms and shoulders into the air. Ready to resolve the conflict in his own way, he wasted no time in closing the distance between them. Patience had more than long since worn out.

Upon hearing the baritone voice, the opposing king immediately loosed her grip on the delicate boy, gesture just destabilizing enough to send him stumbling to the ground. "Mikoto," she greeted, welcoming him all to familiarly with arms wide open. Her lips were curved upward in a smile that appeared sincere, laced all throughout with a plum tainted venom of wickedness.

* * *

Bandou and Fujishima as well as Chitose and Dewa had taken to fighting in pairs rather than mano-a-mano which meant the odds were even less in their favor. Still, with using the method of one luring their attackers into the ambush of the other, they were racking up some substantial piles of bodies. They had discovered that by keeping the crates in between the Reds and the Blacks, they had the advantage since it seemed the opposing clan _really_ didn't want to harm the merchandise inside.

About the time that Chitose had another one in his sights was when the ground gave a sudden and great upheaval. Dewa was herding a reaper toward his partner and, due to the quake, suddenly found himself stumbling unsteadily rather than running. The Black Clansman stopped short right before he was going to run into the waiting fists of Chitose and shot a smirk at Dewa that Kusanagi really didn't like the look of. Then a ninja swung down from the top a nearby stack of crates and trapped Dewa against the floor. Chitose was defending himself from the reaper by that time, leaving his partner on his own. Squirm as he might, the Red boy couldn't get an angle to light his adversary on fire and stop the dark aura.

A bit of ash fell from the end of Kusanagi's cigarette, and he called out to the tiny embers within. They quickly grew into a glowing orb the size of a basketball and, with a cue from the commander's hand, it smashed into the Black Clansman with enough force that it slammed him into the upper shipping box. While the crispy ninja writhed in pain, several reapers hurried to right the box, leaving Dewa free to gain his feet.

* * *

Taking half a step back, Kusanagi placed a solid kick into the middle of her chest plate which, although it may have jarred her more than hurt her, sent her skidding back several feet. With her out of stabbing range, he called on the flame of his lighter another time and stretched it into a whip-like shape. Ordering it onward, it surged toward the ninja and, with a sharp snap of his wrist, it cracked loudly against the stone where she had just stood. The Black leader had sidestepped and hurled several more shuriken, this time doused in shadow, toward his person. Jerking back, the whip cut upward through the air and melted the stars like a heat wave washing over ice.

A gesture from its maker's free hand sent the fire curving back in a serpentine pattern and, just like a live reptile, it attacked her in the shoulder, searing right through the soft area where the shoulder armor connected to the breast plate. The female shouted in pain and sliced through the snake using her second dagger drenched in black mist. Then one of her boots came down in a powerful stomp that sent some of the tendrils that guarded her back spiraling down that leg. It rushed smoothly across the space between them as if someone had dumped over a jar of ink. Kusanagi managed to dodge so that it met only one leg, but even so, he was brought to a knee.

He was reminiscent for a fleeting moment of a time when he had gone to a conference and tried a vintage scotch. It was delicious, and he had had entirely too much which felt an awful lot like how he felt now—someone standing over him while he teetered unsteadily on his knees, trying to maintain his equilibrium. Still he kept a grip on his lighter and held it outright for his next move…and for balance.

* * *

The cathedral shook then, from its foundations to the top of its spires. Shock waves came all the way to the four teens, propelling only Yata's feet forward. "I'm going in!" He announced, obviously assuming the others would follow.

After hesitating briefly, Azami ran to stop him, calling, "The building is collapsing, Idiot."

Watching, not the two of them, but rather the hanging swords, Fushimi perceived a huge burst that neither of them noticed. Azami was still close enough that he could grab her by the wrist, thus preventing her from going closer to the building, but Yata was already too far ahead. She glared at him for the silent prohibition and tried to shake free.

Then, she understood why. A blast hit the cathedral so hard that one of its towers broke off. The impact that it made upon hitting the ground shook the vanguard from his feet.

* * *

Somehow, a man with no formal martial arts training who simply threw punches as he pleased broke through the precise form of a leader of ninjas to wrap his enormous hand around her throat. He could break her neck in an instant. He could crush her vocal cords to cause asphyxiation, or release a full-strength burst of his flame directly into her brain stem. Any of the three would be as simple as a single movement.

Sefina knew this. Horror disfigured her face, and she thoughtlessly stepped backward, rushing to escape his grasp. Thanks to their destructive battle, her feet tripped over a crack where a portion of the floor had sank a few inches. As she fell, she grabbed Mikoto's t-shirt, seeking purchase. Instead, he toppled down with her.

* * *

**_So there you have it. 18 pages of people falling! No one was spared! Except Anna. We had no clue there was that much in this story. Maybe it happened a little too much?_**

_**Anyhow, we hope you enjoyed it. Next week the bloopers return...**_


	3. Bloopers - Part 2

_**Here we are, back again with a series of very big accidents waiting to happen. Hope you enjoy. Also, if you don't hear from us during November (and possibly the beginning of December), do not fear. It's only a temporary hiatus for Arait to participate in NaNoWriMo. Both Kateracks and Arait are seriously starting to consider the future of our K based fanfiction works.**_

_**That being said, we hope you all check out the K/DRRR crossover one shot that Arait wrote called Is That Shizuo? as well.**_

* * *

The alley opened up on the other side to an empty shipyard. Containers the size of semi-truck trailers and train cars were stacked in towers on every side. The ground was wet, covered with salt-water puddles. They both stopped, panting while they glanced in each direction. No one else was here. Neither witnesses nor helpers would be found in a place like this. Totsuka had a vague memory that they had crossed the border into the green clan's territory. Even that would make no difference if they weren't currently in the area.

"Maybe, if one of these is open, we can hide inside and let them pass us by," Emi suggested, trying to figure out how to open one of the containers. That was no use. They were all held closed with padlocks.

"There's a building over there," Totsuka mentioned, and they headed towards it to try there also. Their pace remained quick but not as hurried as before.

Detouring from the narrow pathway, the yakuza easily found another way into the shipyard. The three men were once again in front of the couple, blocking their path. In a protective stance, Totsuka stepped in front of Emi, even though his internal confidence was wavering. His right hand was fully charged with every ounce of fire power he had to drill tiny holes and make flying butterflies. What good would either of those do now? Nothing could stop the men from just shooting them.

Looking around for anything that could buy them some time, Totsuka remembered they had passed a 50 gallon drum of used oil. Still with Emi's hand in his, he grabbed his phone in his pocket in the other and slowly began to transfer his heat to it as they retreated. When they reached the metal barrel again, the boy let go of his girlfriend's hand to knock the drum over.

As old, grimy oil spilled out onto the ground, Totsuka told her to keep running. She hesitated to obey when it looked like he was going to stay behind. The smile on his face was so sad. He insisted, though, so she continued their flight without him. Totsuka simply stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling at the approaching mobsters.

"If you turn around now, we won't hurt you," he warned, a strange threat considering to this point he had done nothing but run.

They just laughed and kept coming.

"Look, you're going about this all the wrong way. We don't even know what you want from us." They didn't seem moved by his light-hearted persuasion. "King can be a reasonable guy, you know. If you have a message to send him, why don't you try texting? It's the modern world, after all."

Obviously, they were dead set on carrying this through to the end. Maybe they were working for someone else, and these were just their orders. It wasn't like Totsuka expected he would talk them out of it. He was just filling up time while he waited for them to get close enough for his plan. They nearly were within range of the spilled oil, and he backed up just a couple feet to draw them further.

As soon as the first man stepped foot in the oil, not even noticing it was there, Totsuka retrieved his molten phone from his pocket, intending to chuck it at the ground near the barrel. Like a chocolate bar in a sauna, red strands of sticky plastic clung to his fingers, stretching all the way to the lining of his pants. The more he tried to detach himself, the more the red-hot substance scattered over him.

Far from dissuaded, the mobsters continued their approach toward him, and he found himself laughing in embarrassment. "Well this didn't work as planned, did it?"

"Hang on, hang on," he requested, momentarily more concerned with getting the fire out of his pants than what the yakuza might do to him.

The first man reached him while he was shaking his hand free, and tiny embers flew into the air between them. They assaulted the gangster like tiny burning pinpricks, which only served to make him more angry. Now desperate, Totsuka shoved the entire molten device into the man's chest with a cheeky grin.

"Here, call King. He'll get this all worked out."

* * *

There were times when Yata couldn't see the strain they were chasing at all. It was those times that the forerunner was glad he had someone tapping buttons behind the scenes, sending him instant messages that said nothing more than "turn left," or "turn right." Even if he didn't occasionally catch glimpses of the man in flight, he would trust those messages. Fushimi had proven his skill more than once.

For that reason, it was a complete shock to him to whip around a corner and find nothing but wall in front of him. He backed up, searching for some tunnel or door he may have missed. There was none. Brimming with anger from losing the target and also some adrenaline remaining from the chase, Yata slammed a flaming fist into the concrete wall. Then, he called Fushimi.

As soon as the call connected, he began, without waiting for his friend to even say hello. "Saru! Where is he? You sent me to a dead-end."

While Yata may have continued ranting, and Fushimi normally would have waited impatiently, the latter interrupted this time. "Can't talk. Hang on." The tech said no more than that. Yata expected that he would carefully examine all his equipment for the man who had disappeared. Instead, he heard a single click.

"Huh?" Yata responded to an empty line. "Saru, did you hang up on me?" In return, he heard only his own voice resounding through the water filled corridors.

The curt tone in Fushimi's voice—while not sounding much different from normal—had been caused by the other conversation he had been having when Yata called him. Between the two, he quickly assessed the matter to be discussed with his friend as less pressing and turned back to the call he had been trying to make.

"Yes, one medium deep dish," he began, addressing the uninteresting stranger on the other line. "Canadian bacon and pineapple. Extra cheese, with a medium coke. Minimal ice."

There was a silence in his ear that lasted at least five seconds, the kind of blank space of someone being entirely dumbfounded. That didn't surprise him, since most people in dead end jobs like pizza delivery were generally incompetent. Expecting he'd soon have to repeat the entire order brought a scoff from his lips. However, the response he actually got was far removed from what he predicted.

"Pizza?" The single word wouldn't have come as a surprise, except that he recognized the voice. He had made a mistake in transferring from one call to another and accidentally activated the line with Hayashi rather than the restaurant. "I'll get right on that. Would you like an order of breadsticks or maybe a side of _this strain I'm chasing for you?_"

She could hear the momentary panic in the pause before he answered, "Just testing the connection. Are you there yet?"

"Almost." Azami replied. Between programmed breathing that evidenced her current quick pace, she teased, "I won't tell if you get me some cheesy breadsticks."

* * *

Recalling the line that was on hold, he caught Yata right as he reached the open street. The skater had arrived at the gas station Fushimi had mentioned just in time to see their stretchy quarry collapse. Azami was in front of him with her fist out as if she had just finished a strike.

Spying Yata coming around the corner of the street, she smirked. "Didn't let him get away."

He was just about to make a snappy comeback along the lines of "No thanks to you," but Fushimi had taken their call off of hold and his voice interrupted the banter.

"Misaki, Kusanagi-san is on the phone. Don't tell him anything," Fushimi explained quickly.

Yata looked at Azami somewhat apologetically and sighed. Mostly he was just sorry that he wouldn't get to repay the strain for his bloody arm as soon as the bastard came to. "I gotta take this."

Azami shrugged him off since he wouldn't be that far away anyhow. "Go ahead. I'll take care of this guy." She raised her voice. "By the way, thanks for the directions, Fushimi-san!" Back to the phone conversation, she patted their catch hard on the cheek a few times to enliven his brain.

"Wakey, wakey!" she chirped in a sickly-sweet tone that let her victim know just how much trouble he was in despite his foggy brain. The eyes rolled around the boy's head for a couple moments; then he focused on her face and they widened. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget to reign myself in. Welcome back!"

The boy caught sight of the pyro in the background and he whipped the pistol from his pants once more, attempting to dispose of one problem. One he could handle, but not two at the same time. However, before he could aim effectively, a foot came down on his wrist, smashing it harshly into the pavement.

"Nuh uh. No more of that," Azami snarled and pried the weapon free of his grasp. She dropped the magazine, racked the slide to free the bullet in the chamber, and then winged both items into the open manhole where it would never be seen again. That done, she returned to her cheerful tone and chastised, "It's not polite to shoot people during a meeting such as this."

"If anyone is being rude here, it's _you,_" the male retorted. One of his arms which hadn't retracted to his side reached up and poked her shoulder blade for emphasis on the "you". His uncanny ability to stretch apparently escaped Azami's attention for the moment as she spun toward Yata standing behind her, still talking to his elder.

"What?" she asked him.

Yata turned and raised an eyebrow at her seemingly unprovoked question and then turned back around as whatever Kusanagi was informing him of demanded more attention.

Azami shook her head at him and went on, "Now where were we before that interruption? Oh yeah. Let's start with where Haruna, Emi is being kept."

The whole interaction gave the strain an idea, but for now he glared at her so as not to let on. "What makes you think I'm gonna tell you anything?"

He tapped her opposite shoulder this time. She spun again as that felt like an inquiring gesture and demanded, "What now?" Yata's back was still to her as he was commenting to the other person on the line, acting like he was totally innocent so she snapped, "Will you stop? I'm trying to conduct an interrogation here!"

Yata frowned at her over his shoulder again, his furrowed brows saying plainly that he thought she was losing it before he turned away again and plugged his free ear.

Rolling her eyes at his immaturity, she collected her train of thought again and continued to the strain, "You won't, huh? Not even if I ask you _nicely_?"

He scoffed and turned his head away from her, answering, "I ain't scared of you. You have no clue what the Black Clan would do to me."

That reply his final answer, he shoved her in the middle of her bruised tattoo. With a gasp, Azami staggered forward and almost fell into the boy's lap. A violent fire lit in her eyes then and she whirled to shove who she suspected was the culprit.

Yata had just ended his call with Kusanagi when he found himself falling forward and almost meeting the pavement with his face. He just managed to catch himself and roll to his feet, expecting that Hayashi had been overpowered and they were now being attacked. He got into a stance to protect himself and then realized that it was not an angry strain standing before him, but a disheveled looking Azami.

"What the hell?" he cried.

"That's what you get for screwing around while we're supposed to be working!" she snapped.

"I wasn't screwing around! I was talking to Kusanagi-san!"

"Yeah, sure you were..."

With a glare, Yata snatched her bicep in his fist and growled at her, "Listen, you crazy—"

In turn, Azami clenched a handful of his shirt and dragged the two of them together until their noses were almost touching and interrupted, "No, _you_ listen—"

But then a dull voice came out of Yata's watch and reminded them, "Guys, the strain..." and then they found themselves in a pile on the ground.

There was a brief moment of embarrassed shock between the two since their faces were almost touching and the Green Girl had fallen on top of the Red Clansman. Then Azami came to and glared death toward their target that was slinking away. Ferocity climbing up her neck to replace the near blush on her face, she leaped to her feet.

Teeth bared like a wild animal, the female snarled, "Hey damnit! Get your ass back here!" and started her chase all over again.

Yata, for his part, remained on the ground, still somewhat struck with horror while that same bored voice clicked its tongue and scolded up from his wrist, "That was the oldest trick in the book..."

* * *

**-Alternate Version-**

"Nuh uh. No more of that," Azami snarled and pried the weapon free of his grasp. She dropped the magazine, racked the slide to free the bullet in the chamber, and then winged both items toward the open manhole where it would never be seen again. Unfortunately, she was not as good at throwing things as she was climbing them so when she misjudged how much force would be needed to meet her target, the pistol flew a little too far and cracked Yata in the back of the skull.

"What the hell?"

The boy lurched forward and grabbed onto his abused noggin with a groan while he felt around under his beanie to see if he was bleeding. When he wasn't, but it was obvious that he was going to grow a nice goose egg there, he turned and glared dangerously at Azami, his aura beginning to glow bright around him.

Azami laughed nervously and gave a sheepish wave. "Sorry, Red..."

* * *

Quite some time passed, until dusk settled over the city. Then, Yata exited the bar, searching left and right, scratching at the hair under his hat like he was desperate to find something lost. It became clear when Yata looked right over Fushimi's head without acknowledging the presence of a friend. He had been the one to piss off his girlfriend, and the others had all just finally convinced him to go make up with her.

With a scoff, Fushimi turned back to his phone. He would have liked to distract himself with it for a while longer, but the battery was dangerously low. Scrunching his face in distaste, he slid the phone into his pocket, leaned his head on the back of the bench, and closed his eyes. Long before he fell asleep, a heavy weight fell onto his chest. He opened his eyes to look upon an irritatingly friendly face hovering above him.

"I brought you a blanket," Totsuka stated, referring to the pile of cloth he had dropped onto the dark haired boy's chest.

Fushimi said nothing. It didn't deserve a response. He had made himself clear enough from the start. At least this time Totsuka had put a coat on himself and didn't look like he might freeze to death trying to make conversation with an antisocial boy. Pulling out a pair of scissors, he grabbed a handful of dark hair and began trimming.

"Hey!" Fushimi protested suddenly, jerking away from the elder's grasp. Eyes wide, he questioned, "What are you doing?"

Grinning like a fool, Totsuka pushed Fushimi's shoulders back into a slump on the bench. That was more appropriate posture for getting a haircut. "I'm going to trim your hair back to the way you like it."

The younger crossed his arms with a grumble. "Can you even do that, with the way you are now?" As always, the inquiry sounded harsh, perhaps insulting. Totsuka knew better, though. Somewhere behind the glare, the teen would be surprised that he even remembered his hair preferences.

There was another sentiment hidden in the words also, and Totsuka commented on this, saying, "Hmm, I knew you were actually worried about me."

As clippings fell around his face and blew away in the wind, Fushimi clicked his tongue. "I'm not worried about you," he insisted drably, bothered that somehow this one person could always see right through him.

For some reason, Totsuka seemed to be taking longer sculpting and snipping the hair than what an average trim should take. Fushimi didn't think much of it, assuming the cause of his lethargy was lingering weakness, until the elder patted him on the shoulder.

"All done," he proclaimed, and Fushimi stood to see his reflection in one of HOMRA's windows.

Sideburns. There were sideburns running down his jaw, trim and tidy. The rest was slicked back with added volume in the front like some American-made film from the 1960s. Of all people in the world, he looked like Elvis. Elvis in glasses. Elvis trying to play the role of some preppy, smart kid with an attitude in a musical high school.

The only thought to come to Fushimi's mind was: _How long will it take to get rid of this? _

Grinning, the stylist asked, "What do you think of Totsuka's custom cuts?"

"Undo it," the victim ordered immediately. He did not, under any circumstances, want someone to ask him to sing.

* * *

Sefina, who had arrogantly looked a clairvoyant in the eye, finished the demonstration of dominance right before her thoughts would have become one with Anna's. All of the clans were aware of Homra's child—her appearance, her methods, as well as her dangerous strength. No one would actually risk falling victim. They easily saw through Sefina's guise of confidence, meeting the girl's gaze for a short while, but who returned to her feet as soon as Anna threatened to look more closely.

The Black King was taller than Totsuka, and she flaunted every centimeter of advantage that her heels gave her. Standing far too close for comfort, she placed her palm against Totsuka's chest where his heart should be and made a show of compassion.

"You really do have a special connection with that girl," she began sweetly. Then, as a cloud of black swirled into existence around her fingers, she continued menacingly, "To dare come here after her without any powers."

Missing a breath, Totsuka hurriedly took a step back. It was true that he really was not equipped with the kind of strength to challenge a king. He didn't successfully put space between them because the king grabbed the lapel of his shirt, forcing him so close to her that their bodies were touching.

"Y-you," the young man stumbled momentarily over his words when a snicker threatened to burst out. He once more found his resolve to finish the demand in the way Anna tightly clutched his hand. Through a large smile pinched with restraint, he questioned, "You didn't hurt _her_, did you?"

From that close, the atmosphere between them was stuffy, so much that he could feel the heat of her sigh as it landed on his cheek. "I never hurt either of you. Even you, Tatara, only suffer from your own weakness. You'd have done better to leave well enough alone, and things would have worked out."

Hearing the words that he so often spoke come out of her mouth tasted like swallowing a bitter poison, and Totsuka couldn't hold back a second longer. Laughter poured out of his mouth with such intensity that he bent over, clutching his chest.

Taken aback, Sefina stepped away with an offended look on her face. What did he find so amusing about her advances? Any other male would have long since been paralyzed by her seductiveness, but he was laughing like a child. She flipped her braided hair over a shoulder with a humph.

"The look..." he giggled, barely able to form words from gasping between outbursts. "Anna...that look...are you jealous?"

* * *

Kusanagi walked up to the bar, rolling his shoulder that he still thought had nearly been put out of place. He could use a strong drink. A few chairs down from where he stood, their king sat unscathed with a glass of scotch in one hand. He wasn't really drinking it; although, it looked as if he'd already polished off one or two. His expression was dead, as always, while he looked out over the ruckus that was his clan. They seemed to be giving him a headache.

Depending on who you ask, some might describe the redhead as uninterested. They might carelessly accuse, "Looks like your boys took the brunt of tonight's damages." Kusanagi knew Mikoto better than that. He saw the detached look and knew their leader was thinking hard about something. Their king's wounds ran deeper than what could be treated with bandages and balms.

Instead, then, he grabbed the bottle of alcohol Mikoto had served himself from, and poured another generous portion as his own drink. "By the way Yata-chan tells the story, you can hardly tell what happened," he pointed out noninvasively.

Mikoto barely acknowledged his presence with a, "hmph."

That was when Kusanagi decided Mikoto needed him to stay—as a friend, not as the second-in-command of their clan—but he should not ask what, or who, he was musing over. Pulling a stool toward himself, he sat down heavily, almost like the weight of the last week had taken the strength from his muscles, or maybe it was that ninja.

As soon as his lower half came to rest on the seat, a load-bearing bolt came loose. The legs of the chair separated from the stool itself, and the whole thing collapsed to the floor in a heap of broken pieces. Kusanagi let out a startled sound uncharacteristic for the typically calm male, which drew the attention of everyone in the bar.

From where he now sat on the hardwood, Kusanagi groaned like a decrepit old man whose joints would no longer move and stood back to his feet. The shot glass was unharmed in his hand, and he held it out for all to notice he was just fine. Once they went back to their own activities and laughing amongst themselves, he turned back to the bar and muttered to his friend.

"Saved the scotch."

* * *

_**Hope you all enjoyed our bloopers. Next time will begin the deleted scenes! Thinking about it...all of the deleted scenes include torturing Yata in one way or another. Poor boy, we are so cruel to him. But he's just so easy to pick on. There may also be included a preview to our sequel, so there are some good things to look forward to, we hope.**_

_**Hmm...Arait is wondering if the bloopers were predictable? Anyhow, matta ne!**_


	4. Azami Says Whaaat?

_**This is the first of our deleted scenes, written by Kateracks. It is an alternative take on the scene where Yata and Azami are chasing the ninja through the docks. You may be surprised who else shows up.**_

* * *

They rounded the corner of the building and then stopped short, sneakers skidding on the pavement as they spotted the ninja standing behind an impressive-looking woman like a chick behind a mother hen. The male looked smug like he thought they were doomed, but the woman looked a bit curious at their arrival. After all, no one was supposed to be patrolling right then.

Clad head to toe in tight, black leather, it was obvious which clan she belonged to, and with her darker skin and braids scattered throughout her hair, she gave off an exotic air. Her tall stature, even without the heels made her appear to tower over them all as a person of great authority. The look perfectly accompanied the deep shadow of aura that oozed from her person and rolled over the two teens of opposing color like the inviting caress of death. Azami stayed behind Yata just in case it decided to drag one of them in.

It didn't have to. While Azami could tell that the woman was clearly the Black King, Yata either couldn't or just didn't care. He powered forward, intent on maybe taking them both down for questioning or just going through the King for the ninja. It was a stupid idea even to Azami, but she couldn't let him die alone so she charged in behind him. They launched into the air and brought a flaming bat and bright beams of green down on both of the enemies.

Then, the King smirked and waved her hand across their path which created a shield that smothered all of the other auras and blinded the teens. When the smoke dissipated, they got a clear view of the woman right before she kicked Yata in the chest and grabbed Azami's ankle to throw her to the ground. From flat on his back and through the spinning in his head, Yata heard the leader tell the ninja, "Go brief everyone." Then, one blob in his unsteady vision came into focus—and only one. He cursed to himself.

The older female crossed her arms and mused toward him, "That was quite an entrance. And who might you be?" She mostly ignored Azami as if she already knew who the younger female was or was more impressed by Yata than the other.

Now dizzy and angry, Yata barked, "I'm Yatagarasu of Homra!"

She smiled then and approached him much more closely. "I might have known. Only one of the Homra boys would have that kind of nerve. You're much cuter than I've heard, though."

She crouched in front of him, leather creaking as she did so, her chest precariously close to busting out of its confines. Yata was keenly aware of his proximity to the danger zone at that point and attempted to crab-walk himself away a few paces out of nervous reflex. However, he found that despite his enormous effort, his body was not responding in the way he would have liked. From his chest down felt numb, though not broken or in anguish, but that if he tried to put any weight on it, his muscles would not hold out.

Her smile made him sweat. "So Yatagarasu of Homra, what can I do for you today?"

He stuttered over his next word for quite some time. What was he doing here exactly? Who was he looking for? He was no good at questioning girls. _Totsuka was more cut out for this. Oh!_ The thought of his comrade was just the reminder he needed.

"H-H-H-Haruna-s-san…" was all he could manage.

The King frowned a little and reached out to fix the collar of his shirt which had been twisted when he hit the ground. He froze at her tantalizing touch and felt his stomach tie into nauseating knots. "Everyone is so intent on finding her. But I'll let you in on a little secret, handsome. She's not hurt. We're treating her as our guest. We'll return her unharmed in due time." She stood. "Now, I have important business to conduct, but be sure to tell Mikoto that we'll be meeting soon enough for me, won't you?"

She climbed expertly to her feet atop her massive heels and left him struggling to get his own legs under himself. Azami managed to rise up from her facedown orientation and push herself into a sitting position a few feet from his right side. After a few more long seconds she tried to reach her feet.

"Well, I'm impressed," she announced with a grunt as tingly pricks of feeling flowed back into her legs.

"What are you talking about?" Yata scowled while he tried to imitate her example. He was slowly becoming consumed with anger again, but this time at himself for being defeated so easily—by a woman, no less—even if she _was_ a king.

Azami smirked over at him as he once again rose to eye level with her. "Don't tell me you didn't think her boobs were fantastic. 'Cause I did."

Yata's face flushed a deep scarlet as his head flooded with all the possible meanings behind that one statement. Azami's carefree grin about the implications didn't help either. Ducking his head, he tugged his beanie down lower as if to hide the blush.

"Sh-Shut up."

* * *

_**Arait: It's true. They really are fantastic.  
**_


	5. Monsoon Season

_**Well, since this deleted scene was written aforetime and Arait is super stuck in her NaNoWriMo venture, she has decided to post the next Deleted Scene, even though she told all of you nothing new would come out during the month of November. *sighs* This is Arait's first attempt at NaNoWriMo, and it is far harder than she ever expected. Arait has absolutely no desire to write ever again... (like that will last more than a week before she's back writing like crazy again). Anyhoo, please do enjoy. We hope you scream! **_

* * *

Something was unusual about HOMRA that night. There was a sultry air about it, almost like those tropical, third-world countries where you would expect a four-hour, B-rated drama to be filmed. It was early July, though—hot and humid with the sound of cicaida in the background—and the bar's typical atmosphere added a particular heaviness in the low light. The evening was calm, since not too many were inclined to pursue an active lifestyle at the end of monsoon season. Both the heat and the rain were a threat this time of year.

Two unchanging facts remained ever present, regardless of weather conditions: a lazy redhead was dozing off somewhere in the main room, and someone impulsive was causing a ruckus. The former was leaned back against the black, leather sofa, eyes pointed to the ceiling with a cigarette clenched between his teeth as if he were trying to light the curtains on fire with his mouth. A slow tune played in the background on the jukebox. Most likely Totsuka had picked a much livelier rhythm before leaving his king alone at the bar—something upbeat, about summer activities to brighten a drooping day—but by the end of the album, the music felt like it dragged also, weighed down by the sauna-like weather.

Mikoto didn't appear any more or less put out by it than any other day.

HOMRA's front door burst open, nearly knocking the chime above straight through the pane of glass—or at least it sounded that way. The person to rush through panted with the urgency of someone who had run there, someone who had long since overcome their fear of the monumental burning sensation that resided within its walls.

Sprinting in the wet July heat was far from desirable, but it wasn't sweat that drenched this person from head to toe. Water dripped from the neon green tips of her layered hair, as well as the hoodie that she considered wringing out right there in the doorway. Deciding the bar master would be furious if he found a puddle of water on his imported-something-or-other hardwood floor, she took off the jacket instead, hanging it up by the entrance.

Barely lifting his head, Mikoto spotted the girl and concluded the heavens must have, at last, gotten tired of holding back. He hadn't noticed when it first started, but without a doubt he could now hear the rain pounding on the window behind his head. The change shaded the warm hues of the bar with a more shadowy blue, but it didn't dull Mikoto's emanating heat any.

The green girl seemed nervous, or amused, maybe both. Not leaving the entryway, she asked, "Do you not even care that I just barged into your headquarters?"

It was possible he was starting to grow accustomed to her presence around his clan members. At the same time—if not for the rain—he had nearly thought her manner of running bore more bad news such as Emi's kidnapping. That would have piqued his interest, or at least his anger. If she only ran for the rain, though, that was hardly a reason to get up in arms.

Removing the cigarette from his lips, he blew smoke up. "He's not here."

"Who?" She asked, not looking up from her feet as she removed her soaked socks and shoes.

Mikoto didn't answer. Either she was playing innocent, or she had come to see more than one person. He never entertained the thought that she had come to see him.

After quite a while of tense silence, the king said, "If you're going to wait, you should sit down."

The statement sounded neither like an offer, nor a suggestion. It was more like an order, so Azami complied. Even as a clansman of another king, she always felt like it was a bad idea—even impossible—to do anything other than what Mikoto said. The Red King exuded his authority at all times, which made anyone in his vicinity feel rather small.

At that point, he put forth a particular effort. Stubbing out what little remained of his butt in the ashtray, he stood with a deep breath and made his way to the bar. His path was direct, with neither deviation nor distraction. He knew what he was intending to do and went straight for it. Grabbing two small glasses and a bottle of Cognac—knowing very well to take a VS Brandy for drinking, not a cheap one for making martinis—he turned to the guest seated uncomfortably on the other sofa.

"You drink?" He inquired shortly.

She looked at the liquor and the two glasses in his hand. "I-I have...but." She found herself somehow unable to form a refusal. Even if she said she was underage, or that she had stopped with that lifestyle, or that straight Brandy had never exactly been her favorite poison, she knew it wouldn't stop him. Nothing ever could.

When he regained his seat across the coffee table from her, he poured each of them a generous portion and passed Azami's to her. He raised an eyebrow at the curious way she took the drink uncertainly. For some reason it occurred to her that she had once been told in another language the word for "Cognac" means "burn blood." While that seemed to fit Homra perfectly, she couldn't help but wonder if he served it to her because she was wet. It would definitely warm her from the inside.

She looked over to him, at the golden eyes that stared her down. His aura that spread a perimeter around him larger than the bar itself warmed her plenty enough that she didn't need a strong drink. Still, she felt like the situation would calm somewhat if she drank. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. Immediately, she was hit by a reminder of its contradictory nature. Smooth, it slithered down her throat, and she felt its burning descent right to the point where the liquid lit a fire in her stomach. A bitter dryness was left in its place, beckoning her to fill her mouth once more with the original, sweet flavor.

Another sip and Mikoto relaxed. With a sigh, he leaned back into the couch. His role as host had been fulfilled. As time passed, the downpour outside gave way to just a gentle dripping, not at all unlike the rate with which water trickled down Azami's face from her deflated hair. It gathered at her chin and then dropped onto her collarbone which had been atypically exposed due to a clingy t-shirt.

Not much was left to the imagination in regards to shape. Cotton stuck tightly to skin while all the excess fabric was collected between two small mounds. Colors were distorted by the semi-transparent shirt, and not only was a peach-yellow visible but also a dull gray tinted with a subtle green formed a band near the top.

Standing, Azami stretched. Reaching her arms to the sky tugged at the sticky bottom hem while gravity weighed down her water logged jeans. More hip was showing than normal, as well as kidneys and other definition that could only be seen on a slender, toned person. She seemed entirely unembarrassed by her appearance, acting instead like she had grown bored.

"Do you have anything to do while we wait?" She inquired.

She had strayed within arm's reach, and he hooked a finger around a belt loop of her pants. The abrupt jerk drew a surprised chirp from the girl as she toppled forward, but she didn't protest. She didn't pull away, even though she was now only inches from the Red King. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her throat as he let out a deep chuckle. His knees were between her legs, and she was just barely able to keep her balance hanging over him with her hands at either side of his head on the couch.

His hair smelled like smoke. All of him did, really, but at this proximity another, musky odor added to the mix, giving the impression of incense burning. The triangular gap between their hips was eliminated with another tug on her jeans. Finding the angle awkward, Azami instinctively slid her legs onto the couch and rested on the heals of her bare feet. That put them face to face.

Something about his lips was entrancing. The tiniest quirk indicated he was pleased, and a spark of passion burned in his eyes from behind a mask of reservedness. That hint of a smile was quickly fading, however, so she pounced on it before it could disappear entirely. Her lips embraced the corner of his mouth. She could feel the vibration of his low hum when he shifted his face to show her something even more powerful.

From his open mouth to hers passed something smothering and yet deeply motivating. She paused at first, pulling away with a sharp intake of air as if smoke had filled her lungs. A second later, she decided the bitter dryness it left in her mouth left her wanting another taste. What about it was so intoxicating? The burning sensation on her lips? The raging fire it stirred in her gut? The smooth warmth on his hands moving along the bare skin of her sides?

It all seemed to be drawing her into his feverish daze, where reason and inhibition were replaced with uncontrollable action.

For once, Yata had done as instructed so many times and came in through the bar's back door. He had barely managed to escape the short burst of rain under a bridge, but he was still covered in sweat from the hot afternoon. Exhausted, he threw a plastic bag of whatever he had been sent to retrieve onto the counter in the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator to grab a soda. The burst of cold air was refreshing, and after a moment of basking in it, he made his way to crash on the couch.

In the dark entry between the bar and the stairway, Yata got an eyeful of horrifying visions. The glass bottle froze halfway to his mouth that dropped open in shock. That was his king. On his king's lap was _the Green Girl_, her back to the petrified skateboarder. Her tattoo was in clear view since her shirt was lying on the floor. _His king's_ hand were wrapped around her arched back, reaching for the hook of a sage-colored bra.

"Kyaaaaaaah!" A shriek of pure terror pierced through the crowded bar as Yata jolted awake. Rolling over to face the sky, he lie on the sticky, leather couch for a while, trying to catch his breath. The room now didn't seem anything like it had the second before, and the fact that he was laying down—instead of standing in the stairway—made him question if that might have been a dream. That possibility was relieving, and he nearly stopped hyperventilating.

A familiar voice taunted while her face entered his view of the ceiling, "Bad dream, Red?"

He screamed—an ear-splitting, drawn out, cry of pain—upon seeing her. If his first shout hadn't caught the attention of all of Homra, his reaction to Azami had. Her hair was still stringy from being wet. He shot to his feet then and backed himself into a corner. She had been kissing his king! He was drenched with sweat, even though the chill of an autumn night had set in.

"Whoa, calm down," Azami tried to soothe him as if talking to a spooked horse. "It's all right; you were sleeping."

Her words couldn't reach his panicked mind that stuttered for at least five seconds over the word, "You." When he started next trying to get out a name that began with, "Mi," a silent hand grabbed him by the wrist with a sigh. Disgruntled that no one else was going to try to help the poor, virgin boy, Fushimi forcibly removed him from the setting until everyone was back to normal—both in reality and in his mind.


	6. Confession

_**Hello friends. We want to make a sincere apology to you for the long wait. As mentioned before, Arait tried to devote all her attention to participating in NaNoWriMo. Unfortunately, out of 50k words that she should have written, she successfully wrote only 26k. Perhaps she'll have better success next year.**_

_**Enough of that, though. Please enjoy this deleted scene that is written deliberately just a hair OOC for the sake of all our head cannons. :D**_

_**In this scene, words written in ALL CAPS were spoken in English.**_

* * *

In return, rather than point out that she also had not understood the powers of the Black Clan before her fight, Azami said, "The real question is: where did he go?" Glancing around the hallway, she explained, "We were right around the corner, and he certainly didn't come back past us, but this is the end of the road."

"Where could he have gone?" Yata thought hard, considering things like doors hidden behind enormous paintings and the like. There was nothing like that, though. In the space between the two points was only one large, wooden structure. A cross was carved into the wood, along with various other engravings that shaped its edges. Rapping obliviously on one of its three doors, he concluded, "Just this doll house, right?"

"That's," Azami began, pausing to think of the best way to say it. Eventually, she decided to keep it simple, "not a doll house, Red. It's a confessional."

"I know that," he assured forcefully, and he tried to justify what he had said. "I was speaking...like, uh, figuratively, you know?"

"Right," the girl agreed sarcastically. "Do you even know what a confessional is?"

"Yes," he shot back. His face betrayed him, though, turning the bright shade of a cardinal's cassock.

"Wrong kind of confession," Fushimi brought out, looking like two nights of staying up past midnight was too much for him.

With that hint, Azami also understood what the blush meant. "Are you seriously thinking about middle-school kids confessing with Valentine's Day chocolates in a photo booth at the mall?" She asked in disbelief.

"N-no," Yata denied.

Then, without properly explaining to him what it really was, the other two stared at it solemnly for a short while. Azami broke the silence, inquiring, "So which of you two is going in there?"

"I already unwillingly confessed everything today," Fushimi reminded, referring to his encounter with Anna and truly blaming Azami for the results of _that._

"All right, Yatagarasu then," she deduced. "Let the vanguard live up to his title."

"Why not you?" The one chosen replied. Not comprehending their hesitance, he simply didn't like the idea of being volunteered for the job.

"That would take too long," she answered, and—while it was clearly still a joke—a heavy sadness weighed the words down.

Unmoved by their cowardice, Yata was determined not to become the victim of whatever prank they were trying to pull on him. "Look, you guys, there's three doors. Let's just all take one."

Their responses were less than enthusiastic, a sigh and a moan respectively.

"What are you scared of anyways?"

A list of reasons came to mind: admitting aloud everything one ever did wrong, the hypocritical feeling of going in but not apologizing, the wrath of Western gods, the thought of how many unclean people had gone in previously, etc. Expressing their feelings on the matter to Yata would be more embarrassing than just getting it over with, though, so they eventually gave in. On either side of him they each took hold of a door.

Then, Azami couldn't resist covering her own anxieties by projecting her unease also onto the skater. "Monsters," she answered, "demons, ghosts." All of these were symbolic, of course, metaphors for the past.

Yata took it just literal enough to falter slightly before he strengthened his resolve, stammering, "J-just go in." He ripped the center door open for emphasis and was quite surprised to see nothing particularly within. The small space was shoulder width, solid wood, and looked like it could hold no more than one person. Taking a step inside, he looked to the low ceiling expecting something would shock him. Even alert, it still startled him when the door slammed behind him. His thoughts went first to the words Azami had left echoing in his mind, but he easily convinced himself they were just messing around.

Not much sound could be heard from her side, as if she had been swallowed by a secret trap door...or just wanted to quickly examine her empty compartment thoroughly. On the other side, an abrupt sliding noise preceded the opening of a panel in the wall that Yata hadn't even noticed connecting the tiny chambers. A screen remained, permitting voices to pass through, but one could neither see nor reach the other.

From where he thought he would hear Fushimi declaring in boredom that the room was clear came a sheer scream of pain, like a woman dying. Wide-eyed, Yata jumped and readied himself to fight something.

Unlike Yata, Azami on his left had seen the slight gleam in Fushimi's eyes when he slammed the door behind their mutual friend. She, thus, was not disturbed in the slightest by the horrific noises he was most likely making deliberately and decided also to torment Yata a little herself. Knocking lightly on the wall between them, she spoke in a serious voice, "FATHER, forgive me, for I have sinned."

To the right, nails scratched down the screen like the claws of a wild animal. While he was distracted trying to figure out what was going on in _there,_ Azami continued with a low tone, "FATHER?"

Confused and assaulted from both sides, the small space began to feel especially cramped. His vision swirled dizzily between the two differing attacks. He thought the girl ought to at least hold back her English mockery until after they had handled the threat. It could be Emi dying in there, after all!

Addressing her first, therefore, he retorted, "I'm not your dad!"

Without missing a beat, she corrected, "You're supposed to say, 'all will be forgiven child. What sin have you committed?'"

A silence came over all three of them momentarily while they waited for him to process the information. Reluctantly, he answered in a hush, as if allowing himself to get carried away by her story, "What did you do?"

"I have looked upon the body of a naked man." It was a tad difficult to say that with a straight face, especially knowing that a crazy blush was currently spreading across Yata's face again and he probably wasn't breathing. On the other hand, life with the Green Clan—Kazuki in particular—had trained her well in exaggerating tales in great detail. "He was underaged and..." She paused

, having difficulty figuring out how to describe her target in a way that made it obvious without being blatantly so. After a moment, she decided on, "...and short, but...full of fire and good at fighting."

After a description as clear as that, even the unwilling "priest" wasn't too dense to know who she was talking about. "M-me?" He stuttered out. "Y-y-you...s-saw me?"

Her response was simply a half-satisfied hum.

"When?" He demanded in a panic.

"Let's see...After we caught the strain earlier. I know you think I went straight to the bar, but the truth is, I followed this boy back to the apartment that he shares with his roommate. That is where I saw. I watched as water trickled over his pale, bare skin, the soap that foamed through his chestnut hair down onto his tattoo."

"No..." _It wasn't possible,_ he tried to tell himself. _She was making this up. Fushimi never would have let her in. She was just messing with him._ Of course, a specific dream he had had earlier that day made the possibility seem all the more horrifying. Flashbacks of her wet and topless blended with memories of his own shower that afternoon. She was describing it perfectly.

"Miiii-saaaa-kiiii~" Fushimi called the name of his friend in the voice of someone who had been unjustly ignored for too long. It was a tone eerier than any the quiet boy had ever used before.

Trying to break free from the thoughts pulling him in every which way, he questioned as firmly as he could, "Why?"

"Payback, I suppose," she replied. "I owed you one after you watched me change."

Another, unwanted, life changing moment was recalled to mind, and Yata fought it off with the inquiry, "How?" Short and simple; he probably couldn't get out a complete sentence, anyhow.

"Climbed in through the window." The solution seemed reasonable enough, since he knew very well that she could scale a wall to reach an upper story like the one they lived on.

Unfortunately, that was her undoing. Yata caught the one detail in her story that proved it was all entirely made up and instantly realized how much of an idiot he had been. The next words spoken from him were practically growled, "There is no window."

While she stumbled over a come back, Fushimi cut in again, his back pressed against the screen, and rescued her with a slick tongue, "I've sinned, Misaki, committed a cardinal crime."

Admitted in such a creepy way like a sociopathic killer who painted codes on the walls with blood, a predator who had identified his next victim, that statement drew Yata's attention entirely away from the mostly completed lie of a confession. Once again, it was more than simple to get him fully engrossed in a duplicate travesty just by being dramatic. Slowly, he leaned forward so that his words came out directly against the screen separating him from his friend. "Saru?" He asked, sincerely concerned, "What did you do?"

The response was self indulgent and lofty, "Don't you know, Mi-sa-ki~? The CAPITAL VICES, the Seven Deadly Sins?"

"Did you kill someone?" Cardinal, after all, made him think of red; red made him think of blood. Blood, in turn, reminded him of the scream he had heard only a few seconds before. Murder would be a deadly sin, wouldn't it? Certainly it seemed grave enough to merit such a category.

His assumption was incorrect, as Fushimi exhaled over exaggeratedly, "LUST."

"RUST?" Yata repeated, confusing the two words. Rust was a corrosive, destructive process. It was a reddish color, related to iron, and those things once again led his mind to only one conclusion: murder.

"Lust," the correction came almost instantly in a whisper. "I hear voices, voices that yearn for things not yet possessed. For flesh, for blood! For more POWER."

Knowing that he had sufficiently spooked Yata, and that the boy was as close to the screen as he could possibly get, Fushimi held his PDA right up to the wall between them. He pressed play so that the sound of a woman shouting in pain could be right against his face.

"Whuuaaaaah!" Letting out a yelp, Yata tried to retreat so quickly that he wound up slamming his back into the opposing wall.

A tiny, uncontained snicker interrupted Yata's rising instinct to fight. Even though Fushimi immediately covered his mouth to prevent more laughter, the farce was already discovered. Fury at being played in such an obvious way again replaced the feeling of "kill or be killed," but either one was expressed by Yata in the same way: to fight.

"Calm down, Red; it's over now," Azami tried to console him, but it was already too late to hope for a peaceful ending. Their only choice was to scurry out of the confessional booth as flame erupted around his body. He burst out of there in pursuit of them.

Fushimi was no help. Even though he had long since stopped making the sound of laughter, his face for once held the expression of someone who had enjoyed himself as he reached to the holographic display of his PDA once more and played the recording for Yata to see. Dodging out of the way, Azami barely escaped the resulting scorching.

For his part, Fushimi had only moved his arm the slightest bit, but that tiny change must have meant the world to him, as he suddenly became quite angry himself. "Did you just _try_ to destroy my phone?" He accused, hate lacing his words. Then, he launched a retaliation of equally intense red aura.

Of course, Yata was able to duck beneath the attack, but behind him the entire wooden structure was engulfed by the fire. He barely managed to grab a part of the floor that wasn't caving in with one hand as it all crashed to the level below.

Fushimi met him at the edge of the hole and gazed downward. Rather than extending a helpful hand, he stated in a way that appeared condescending—perhaps just because of their respective positions, "Don't bother climbing back up."

* * *

_**Mwahahahaha! We feel so evil! A thousand apologies Yata-san! Until next time...**_


	7. Behind the Scenes - Commentary by Arait

_**This entire chapter will actually not be a chapter, but rather simply a discussion about certain aspects of Waiting for Totsuka.**_

* * *

First off, while it may easily seem that two girls writing a combined story with two female OCs would be us making invocations of ourselves in the fictional world. This is not the case. Haruna, Emi is far too levelheaded and calm under pressure for Arait to ever even dream of being like her. For her part, Hayashi, Azami was nearly 90% modeled directly off of Yata, so even though Kateracks is the only one of the two of us capable of writing Azami, that doesn't make them the same person. In fact, Kateracks made her appearance in this story as the hospital receptionist that was totally crushing on Suoh outside the lobby. If you were to connect Arait's personality to anyone in the story (aside from Fushimi), it would be a third, female protagonist bound to make her appearance in the sequel.

That being said, these are the beginnings of WFT's girls:

**Haruna, Emi**

This particularly feminine character was created by Arait's dream. In the realm of dreams, Totsuka was walking through a park full of trees, wildflowers, and butterflies. Beside him, walking hand-in-hand, was a petite girl who was all the colors of a peach in a summer dress. Neither of them ever said a word, but they seemed to simply glow with the happiness of a couple in love. Then, as all dreams take a turn toward the unbelievable, Yata and Arait appeared from behind snow fort and began to throw snowballs at the two of them. That was the end of the dream.

It certainly wasn't much to go off of. After describing that tiny flash of inspiration to Kateracks, we brainstormed and still could hardly get a thumb on anything more substantial than that. During that discussion, we did, however, quickly discover that Totsuka would definitely try to break up with her. When we first started writing WFT, that was all we knew about Emi: she was a quiet peach who Totsuka was deeply in love with, but he was going to break up with her.

Note: The first time Kateracks wrote Emi was during Azami's dock scene where she saw Emi forced into the car and chased it. She didn't attempt to write Emi again until they were escaping from beneath the cathedral with her.

**Hayashi, Azami**

Creating this inner city tom-boy was deliberate. Arait doesn't remember what we were discussing that night (be it someone else's fanfic or one written by Kateracks - but not posted - about a girl much like Eric who turned to Yata for comfort one night. Innocent comfort people! Like a hug! Anyhow...), but whatever the discussion was, from it arose the question: who would Yata ever actually fall for? We talked about it for a very long time and concluded it would have to be someone like him, someone who he could think of as competition first and a girl second. That was the only way he could overcome his fear of interacting with girls (by forgetting she was a girl) long enough to learn a thing or two about her.

We also decided it would be best for their competition to span clans so that they could be equal rivals rather than Yata feeling like he had to defend his place in Homra from a newcomer. Arait was the one who chose Green, even though Kateracks definitely agreed with it. Arait also chose her hair, but it was Kateracks who decided she would be somewhat vain about making sure it looked nice. We worked really hard to choose the right clothes for her.

At the end of all that, all we knew was that she was a kick butt, Green, skater chick who would be skilled enough to one day steal Yata's headphones. That's right. "Skater." Azami was originally supposed to skateboard, just like Yata. Then one day at a friend's house, Arait was watching random YouTube videos. The friend showed everyone this video in French about a sport called "Parcours." Arait had never heard of the sport before, but as she listened to the man describe the purpose of the sport (to "find your own path" through a city, one faster than running attached to the ground), and as she watched the performance, Arait had an epiphony. This was what she was born to do with her life. However, Arait has asthma, arms as strong as wet noodles, a torn tendon in her wrist that never healed properly, and bruised ribs. She has basically resigned herself to the fact that she will never be active again (as much as she likes climbing trees, and running across tops of narrow walls, and jumping off of things).

Immediately, Arait projected this dream that she had for herself but could never attain onto the current writing project: the Green Girl. Kateracks response when Arait presented the option to her, "Oh, parkours? My cousin tried to do that." As soon as Arait realized that it was spelled with a 'K' in the United States, she noticed that it was really popular everywhere and that she was the only person who had actually never heard of it. That said, the "Green Girl" embraced it instantly, and the idea of skateboarder was totally tossed aside.

Note: After Kateracks wrote the first section in the dark alley where Azami was taunting Yata, Arait actually developed a strange memory lapse. She began to idolize Azami as if Azami were something amazing and unobtainable that she could never successfully even write properly. She began to immitate Azami's color schemes, wear Azami's shoes, and attempt with all her might to follow Azami's parkour instructions. We were at least 2/3 of the way through WFT when Arait finally remembered that _**she**_had actually given Azami those traits and that they had belonged to Arait first.

The first time Arait wrote Azami was when she laughed at Yata's girly first name. To this point, she still cannot entirely write Azami, but she has at least been able to write small sections with Kateracks' guidance.

If any of those awesome French K fanfic authors that Arait loves so much are readers of this story, il y a une chanteuse Francais qui me rappelle chaque fois d'Azami. Tal chante toujours de la vie d'Azami. Je suis vraiment triste que je n'ai pas des amies qui regardent K et parlent Francais. Seulement un ou l'autre. S'il vous plait, appreciez ce phenomene avec moi! J'aime beaucoup lire vos histoires! (English people can listen to Tal also. She is a French singer who reminds me of Azami every time. But since she sings in French, you might not get it).

**Creation**

To make someone as Bad A$$ as Yata without creating a Mary Sue is actually really difficult. After writing the first couple chapters, Kateracks was very concerned that her awesomeness would come across as Sue-ish. We knew she would have weaknesses, but we also knew she wouldn't show them to people, which left her seeming somewhat invincible for the beginning of the story (which is why we gave her the fragrance allergy to help tide people over to the real weaknesses). However, due to her concern over the matter, Kateracks put Azami through a Mary Sue test online just to make sure. Azami passed with flying colors. Arait took the test for Emi too just for the fun of it. Emi bombed it. The results painted her as 100% Mary Sue. We were both like WTH? Emi isn't even strong. She's only in love with one person, she has no powers, she can't fight, she doesn't have a bad past, and she actually easily frightened. Arait did select "Yes, everybody likes her." Maybe that's why she failed. What do you guys think?

Once we had worked hard to establish their characters, both Emi and Azami practically wrote themselves entirely. Arait had no idea that Emi had this internal determination to try her best in any situation down to the very end and never give up. And there were many occasions when Kateracks would read over a section she had just written and exclaim, "Azami! Why did you do that?" One example is when she sorta used her breasts to beat Yata at DDR. Kateracks was totally surprised, and Azami just shrugged in response.

Because of their taking over their own selves, Azami and Yata did what was in their nature to do. They took over the spotlight of the whole story. After all, the plot was about Totsuka and Emi, but the two of them somewhat faded into the background after the attack. Azami and Yata shoved themselves into the forefront of every scene, leaving the main protagonists as support characters. It was sad; it was never our intention, and we worked hard to give the glowing couple that was madly in love as much attention as we could steal back from the attention-hogs.

Note: WFT was almost cancelled entirely as a story when Kateracks and Arait had one of the largest arguments of their friendship's existence over whether or not it was okay for Azami to have a tattoo.

**The Black Clan**

Yes, it is still vaguely unknown whether the final clan of 7 is Black, Purple, or some other color. The clan is entirely an unknown. (when we wrote the story, so was the Green Clan. We do apologize for everything that is inaccurate about them, and in the future we will strive to bring our plot closer into alignment with cannon). Arait was actually kind of upset when Kateracks sprung on her that we would be incorporating them into WFT. Somehow, it all worked out, though. The Japanese K Wikipedia page specifies that the final clan's power in opposition to "Harmony" of green is "Chaos." Based upon this, possibly unreliable, tiny fact, we decided the clan was more likely to be Black. As mentioned in an Author's Note before a chapter, the King is female because of a picture in K The First manga where it appears that one of the kings has breasts. (It is, however, possible that what Arait saw as breasts was actually just a coat lapel or an oddly placed shoulder, but we went with it anyhow.)

Based off of the fact that the Blue Clan's aura in contrast to the fire of red was not the typical water/ice but rather the power of order, we tried our best to not use the black aura in the same way darkness is typically used. For example, compare our usage of black power with the darkness of Kingdom Hearts. We tried very hard to stick as much as possible to its acidic mist that dissolved things and floated like a steam and its numbing, weakening properties, emphasizing that it wasn't like a thick substance that got inside of a person, affecting their emotions, sucking them in, or dragging them down. The ninja's are of a higher rank and skill level than the reapers. The ninjas are known for each having a different cheap trick up their sleeves; whereas, the reapers use their excessively flowing robes to distort the opponent's perception of distance.

Sefina Nyree is a Hawaiian name. As a character, we wanted to give her an exotic feel, but not the typical stereotype of exotic (i.e. Central/South America). A friend of Arait's from the Philippines had the opportunity to go to either Thailand or Belgium, and he chose Belgium saying Thailand isn't exotic enough because it's too much like where he grew up. As if any Americans would ever consider Belgium to be exotic! Anyhow, the concept of Sefina Nyree is that she is a South Pacific Native. She braids her hair like a native, has skin like cafe au lait, and uses Western eating utensils that are too hard for Emi to use. Her personality was based off of Eris the Goddess of Chaos from the animated movie Sinbad. In becoming a King, she has become royalty, and she lives as if she truly were.

The Cathedral is _**not**_ the headquarters of the Black Clan. It is a secondary facility where they keep all of their illegal dealings. They kept Emi there in case Homra did find out about their involvement and go to their actual headquarters looking for her. Even though we did not find a way to work it into the story, Sefina Nyree owns a night club called Vignette. That is the official center of the black domain as registered with Scepter 4 under Protocol 120.

The Black Clan is the only can that has a bunch of girls in it, and they are all high ranking. This also wrote itself, and we were both really surprised to find out that it kinda turned Kusanagi on...Speaking of turning people on, Sefina Nyree successfully has the seductive ability to entice anyone. Even Emi who is totally straight couldn't help being somewhat seduced. Azami thinks her boobs are fantastic. Totsuka was practically hypnotized. Anna is the only person entirely unaffected by her charm. MikotoxSefina is not a pairing. She was making a facade of liking him hoping to physically wriggle herself out of a battle. That said, the numbing, weakening properties of the black aura do enable Mikoto to uncontrollably feel without the threat of blowing an entire city to bits, and he likes that release a lot. Her ability to do that is strong enough that they could probably have very passionate, unprotected sex without causing any harm, which would probably not work with anyone else. Arait believes that they do this about once every three years, but they truly would make an awful couple.

Arait tries not to talk about that, though, because Kateracks likes Mikoto, so that idea makes her sad. Changing the subject...

**Love Triangle**

This was a total accident! Fushimi was _**never**_ supposed to end up liking Azami. It just happened. Here came along a female Misaki. She was kinda nice to him for a change, and his reaction (that neither Arait nor Kateracks had any control over) was this adorable, confused, elementary school crush hidden behind the cold, antisocial exterior. Azami does not love him back. She's just trying to be a good friend. Fushimi is in 100% denial of it and will never **_ever_** admit to anyone that he likes her, not even himself. However, that feeling that he can't really control allows him to be totally easily influenced by her.

Unlike typical love triangles where everybody is aware of who likes who, none of the three know anything in this story except Fushimi. That is why he constantly refers to Azami as, "Misaki's girlfriend." Azami does not know she is liked by either of them, and Yata does not know that he is liked by Azami (or Fushimi, if you believe in Sarumi, which we do not). In fact, we often jokingly sum their relationship up this way:

Fushimi: [about Azami] I kinda want that...

Azami: [about Yata] I kinda want that...

Yata: [about Azami] She's a girl, but she's not my girlfriend!

MikotoxAzami is not a thing. It was just a single, horrifying nightmare that Yata had. This nightmare was caused by these factors: 1) Seeing Azami change clothes, 2) Seeing Azami wet on at least 3 occasions, 3) Azami had just slept on that couch he was napping on, 4) Mikoto sat there so often it probably smelled like him, and 5) Yata actually kinda fantasizes about her. As the mind will create amazing strange things with combinations of real triggers/memories in our dreams, this was the outcome.

At that, Arait thinks she's blabbed too much and is kinda hungry. See you next time!


	8. Behind the Scenes - Success

_**We thought you guys might be interested in seeing a little taste of how co-authoring worked for us. As was made apparent by the notes made in the first few chapters' titles, we originally had planned so that we would take turns writing chapters. It would be predefined whether Arait or Kateracks would handle a chapter. That didn't last long, since parts from both halves of the story soon had to coincide in time with each other within the same story (i.e. Azami chasing the car that had just kidnapped Emi). When this became clear, we altered our plan to assign each of us sections that would be ours to handle, and after writing the designated sections, we would put them together to form a chapter.**_

_**This worked for quite some time. However, as we delved further into the plot, the two halves of the story melded even further, so much so that characters from both halves had to interact with one another in the same scene (i.e. All the interactions between Totsuka and Azami). At that point, our lives became filled with text messages saying, "Fushimi just did something kinda sadistic, how would Azami respond?" and, "What would Emi do if she had to jump across a huge gap?" There were times when a section assigned to one author was passed repeatedly between the two of us, altered and tweaked on both ends until we were both satisfied with it. On other occasions, an entire scene was written from one character's point of view before being passed over for another entire character to be added.**_

_**The following exerpt (Taken from The Truth Revealed) is an example of when everything worked out smoothly.**_

**Bold Font represents parts written by Kateracks.**

Ordinary Font was written by Arait.

* * *

**Azami studied the bar from the curb across the street. It looked harmless enough; in fact, the sign on the door that beckoned "Welcome" was just asking for her to barge right in. If there was one thing Yata had said right about her, it was that she was confident—sometimes overly or to the point of stupidity. So why was she so nervous?**

**Because she assumed that the "Welcome" sign wasn't directed at people from another clan, but rather, common beer swillers. On the other hand, here she was, about to walk into the fortress of the King who was rumored to be the most violent to give him even more bad news. She had never met the guy herself, but she knew for certain that her King didn't think highly of him and, trapped inside his domain filled solely with his red aura, Azami of the weaker Green Clan was a sitting duck. But…time was of the essence at the moment.**

**Taking a deep breath, she crossed the street and walked up to the large wooden doors. Here she paused once more with her hand on the handle. She had felt as though she were being weighed down by a hot blanket ever since she had entered the territory. It was an eerie feeling that could have been likened to a chill or being watched if she were in any other situation, but here she wondered if it was just the atmosphere that surrounded the Red King everywhere he went—a representation of his eternal anger.**

**She also decided in that moment that this constant feeling would have been much stronger near his domain if he were present. Perhaps he was out at this time. With that possibility in mind, she steeled her nerves and pushed the door open.**

**She was a little surprised by the cheerful tinkling of a bell above her and the greeting, "Hello, welcome to HOM—Ah?" The person behind the counter turned to reveal it was Yata and confusion lined his face along with a little anger. "Who are you supposed to be? Hayashi's brother?"**

**Azami assumed that from the distance to the other end of the room and her identifying hair being tucked into a hat as well as her attire hidden under a forest green sweatshirt, he couldn't properly discern who she was. "Hayashi doesn't have a brother."**

**She strode forward a couple more paces and lifted her face toward the light. The bright green of her bangs and the arrogance in her presence seemed to put a great disturbance in his day as he then pointed accusingly at her.**

"**Are you stalking me now?"**

"**Don't flatter yourself," Azami stated bluntly.**

**Yata glared and moved around the counter, taking hold of a bat that he had propped in the corner. "This isn't neutral territory, and I've had enough of your mouth."**

**He charged through the space between them in a second, currents of fire spiraling out from his chest and down around his being until he was covered in curling, spitting tongues of flame. Azami maintained her cool exterior, but the green aura of her clan was bubbling up inside her and she did her best to channel it into her fists hidden in her sweatshirt pockets and only her fists. If she didn't catch the pyro off guard, her plan might not work and she'd end up as a hunk of charred meat. Still, try though she did, she felt a tingling go through the hair at her scalp and green sparked across her vision.**

**She watched only the bat, and when it swung, she ducked underneath and moved toward him, ripping her hands out of the pockets and shoving them against his chest. The unexpected discharge knocked a breath out of the boy and moved him back a few inches, but did little more harm than a mini explosion that left the impact zone and Azami's hands smoking but uninjured.**

**The distraction didn't last as long as Azami would have hoped, nor prove the seriousness of why she had come there to the vanguard. She didn't even get to start her explanation when he ran toward her again, but then he found himself skidding to a halt when she held up a plain hand in front of his face and said "Stop." So firm was the order that he complied out of confusion. Who was **_**she**_** to command him **_**here**_**?**

"**I bet I can convince you in five words not to kill me," she added.**

**His mind processed that and then went through immediate options of what she could say so that he **_**might**_** spare her life. **_**I came to apologize.**_** No, that was only four words. **_**I think you were right.**_** That was five, but he had a hard time believing that she'd actually say that, even to save her life. **_**I want to join HOMRA.**_** That was five, too, but he would never let that happen, and she looked like she felt awfully comfortable in green. Whatever her message was, it had to be something urgent then.**

"**Better speak fast."**

"**Haruna, Emi has been abducted."**

**Yata's jaw dropped. "What?"**

**Azami sighed and looked around for someone else with ears. There was no one. She swallowed gently. "Where's your King? Does he listen better than you do?"**

"**Wha—No—I dunno where he is."**

"**You don't know?" Azami blurted disbelievingly. She thought this boy had tied himself to the guy's hip, the way Yata worshipped him.**

"**They were all gone when I got back," Yata clarified in a hurry. "When did it happen? How do you know it was her?" Azami opened her mouth to answer as briefly as possible, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Wait, don't answer that yet."**

**She watched in vague admiration as the boy pushed some of the numerous buttons on his wristwatch to reveal that it had the advanced capability to make a call. A list of contacts popped up on a floating holographic screen above his hand that moved along with him while he scrolled down to the person he wanted to dial and started to pace.**

* * *

Hours passed like trying to watch the temperature change on an old, mercury thermometer. Totsuka had been brought back into the room, the doctors having successfully returned him to his former state of unconscious but stable. At one point, Kusanagi had the idea to use Totsuka's phone to call Emi in order to hopefully learn something useful. That plan turned out to be a flop. For some reason, he couldn't find the PDA among the boy's belongings beside the bed. Later, Mikoto took Anna down to the cafeteria since she was hungry, and he needed to keep occupied. It was while they were gone that Kusanagi's phone started to vibrate in the pocket of his jacket.

Glancing at the screen, he saw that Caller ID read Yata, Misaki. The vanguard of their clan was probably just wondering where Mikoto was and why no one was at the bar when he got there. Kusanagi wondered if he should trouble the easily excited boy by explaining details of the situation before they really knew anything substantial. Deciding it would be better to wait a little while—until he himself had a grip on what was going on—he stepped outside the room and answered the call.

"Yata-chan," Kusanagi drawled in a long, teasing way. Then, he snapped, "What do you want?" It was the typical way he answered most of Yata's calls, since the skateboarder had the tendency to ask a lot of silly questions at inconvenient times. By greeting him this way, Kusanagi gave the impression that he was just taking care of his normal errands.

**On the other end, Yata recoiled a little from the tone; he had no clue how to begin. **He could easily tell Kusanagi was busy. Did that mean he needed to hurriedly get down to business, and simply blurt out the message he had to relay? Or was he supposed to prepare Kusanagi to be in the right frame of mind? **Azami's snickering in the background at the "-chan" honorific didn't help his thought process any either. **

"**I wanted…H-Harun…That girl…"** He started three different sentences, in the end not liking any of them. The news he had to share made him angry, but he wanted instead to faithfully fulfill his role by conveying it with urgency.

By that point, Kusanagi had stopped listening, expecting that Yata had nothing important to say. Impatiently, he kept peeking into the room through the window as if it would be awful for Totsuka to wake up while he was outside the door. Finally, Yata drew his attention back by choosing a complete sentence.

"I have something important to tell you."

His tone of voice was entirely serious, which made Kusanagi second guess the attitude he had shown. This wasn't some trivial difficulty. The sentence was just the right mix of forewarning with the manners one was expected to show at the beginning of a conversation.

Even though the man said nothing, his remaining quiet basically signaled to Yata that he should continue. "Hayashi, Azami of the green clan is in the bar," he stated, so forcibly calm that he nearly sounded like a recording.

Kusanagi's first thought was that he was calling to ask permission to run her off, but he knew Yata better than that. The boy was impetuous against enemies. That obviously wasn't why he was calling. Why, then, had he not forced a member of a rival clan to leave their territory?

"She's the one who delivered the pictures, right?" The blond asked for clarification as he looked into Totsuka's room once more just in case. "Why isn't she gone yet?"

"You see," Yata began, audibly uncomfortable with the situation, "when I threatened her, she asked me to hear her out. I think you should too. How soon will you be back?"

"Not soon," Kusanagi replied, blunt and vague. He didn't want anyone to start wondering what they were up to until he had real news to report. "And Yata-chan, you can't let her stay there anymore."

"Got it," Yata acknowledged, **casting a stern look at Azami over his shoulder.** "How 'bout we meet you there? Where are you anyways? You've really gotta hear this."

At the end of the day, members of two different clans meeting in a neutral zone could either work out really well or really badly. Being just one green girl surrounded by the more numerous members of the red clan present, she wasn't likely to try anything crazy. They probably wouldn't create a hazard for normal civilians around them. It seemed like a good idea to bring the girl to them. Only, it meant he would have to tell Yata where they were.

Frowning, Kusanagi pinched the bridge of his nose as if that could relieve his stress. "We're at the hospital downtown."

"Eh?" Instantly, Yata's guise of being calm came crashing down. He was shouting like his normal self. "What happened?"

The superior gave him no answer. "Just bring her here. We'll meet you outside." He hung up then, preventing Yata from asking more questions to which he couldn't respond, and sincerely hoped Totsuka would wake up before the two arrived.

It wouldn't be so, however. Kusanagi retrieved his king and Anna from the cafeteria. They parted ways then, giving the child Kusanagi's phone and the order to let them know the instant anything changed in room 209. The two adults headed downstairs to the parking lot.

* * *

**Even though Yata told her (after much prodding) that they were going to talk to the Red King at the hospital, Azami couldn't shake the paranoia in the back of her mind that she could very well be walking into an ambush. She tried to comfort herself by reasoning that the King didn't need to be present for the Red Clan to dispose of her and if they were going to at all they could have done the deed at any of the dark alleys between the bar and the hospital without much fuss. And she did really have an important message; she just hoped she could get it out before she set off his temper.**

"**So who's this person in the hospital that's so important we have to walk all the way there to talk?" Azami asked, trying to make conversation to spare her nerves.**

"**I dunno. He didn't say," Yata replied shortly.**

"**Don't you guys believe in communication?"**

"**Shut up. It's not any of your business who it is," Yata growled and watched her scratch at a patch of skin at the knuckles of one hand that was slowly spreading red up to her wrist. "Speaking of communication, you got some disease I could catch or something?"**

"**No, I actually got this from you," Azami quipped and when confusion became apparent in his eyes, she supplied, "I have an allergy to morons. Whenever I get close to one I start to itch."**

**His face twisted in anger and he looked as though he might do more than just order her to silence again if he didn't spot the two men idly smoking in the parking lot ahead, and his face brightened a little, if only for just a moment.**

Yata walked up to the two leaders, skateboard under his arm, leading the green clansman as if she were a prisoner of war come to plea her case before the general—or perhaps to be exchanged for gobs of money. Hayashi, Azami obviously didn't feel the same way about it. She held her head high, more like a government official acting as an ambassador to a foreign country, using Yata as her translator.

In contrast to her pride, the girl was sporting a rip in her pants with a newly inflicted scrape on her knee. A newsboy cap was pulled down over her hair, mostly concealing the disheveled look that she had earlier that afternoon, but there was still a bit of fatigue behind the concern in her eyes. It seemed Mikoto had also analyzed the girl, deeming her 'not even a threat,' and taking on a mildly imposing, uninterested stance. She, in turn, looked like she would have been far more intimidated by him on his own turf and what fear remained was overshadowed by the importance of what she had to say.

**Kusanagi waited for the boy to begin his exciting account of what had brought them to this meeting, but Yata's face was not filled with eagerness. Rather, he looked blankly at the building they stood in front of, if not just a little concern showing through in his expression. He looked at the older male after a moment and asked the dreaded question.**

"**Kusanagi-san, Anna wasn't at the bar either. Who's in the hospital?"**

**Kusanagi was still unsure of whether he wanted to let the excitable boy be privy to the situation as of yet. He groped for something to divert the skater's attention so that he might forget he had asked such a thing. That's when he noticed Azami scratching vigorously at a patch of red skin on her wrist, the inflammation of which looked to be expanding steadily up her forearm and growing hives.**

"**Do we need to admit our messenger?" the blonde asked in return.**

**Azami shook her head with a smirk. "Nah, he's the cause. My moron allergy—when I'm too close to one, I start to itch. It'll subside once I leave."**

**Kusanagi nodded once as if he could understand. "I can relate to that on occasion."**

**Yata's squared shoulders drooped, and he gaped at his elder before rounding on the girl. "Eh? Will you shut up about that? It's not even a real thing!"**

"**It must be!" Azami insisted good-naturedly. "Here I am with you and I'm breaking out!"**

**A couple feet away from her, the Red King made a noise in the back of his throat that could have been a grunt or snort of amusement. Her eyes landed on him in time to watch the older male lift his cigarette to his lips to hide the briefest quirk of his lips at his clansman's expense. Yata may or may not have caught the reaction, but either way he scrambled for a comeback to save face.**

"**Maybe you're allergic to yourself! Did you ever think of that?"**

"**No, no, it only happened once I got near you. At any rate, you should be less concerned about me and more concerned about your friend in there." She jerked her chin toward the hospital.**

**Kusanagi frowned when Yata recalled his inquiry and turned toward him again. He had almost been totally successful. He doubted the tactic would work a second time; he'd have to answer.**

"**It's Totsuka."**

**There was a breath of silence between all of them. The elders were solemn and could feel the anger slowly creeping back into their minds while the younger two mirrored each other in expressions of open-mouthed shock. Rather unexpectedly, Azami was the first to awaken.**

"**Sonofa**_**bitch**_**!" she blurted, momentarily forgetting her manners and, giving Yata a solid punch in the bicep, she stepped in front of him and demanded, "Didn't you give them the package I delivered to you?"**

"**AH! Hey! Of course I did! What do you think I am?" Yata defended himself.**

**Azami wouldn't let him off the hook. "A moron, of course! I just said that twice!"**

"**Look, even Totsuka-san himself saw what was inside. I can't help it if he wanders off without protection! Stop trying to make me look bad, you crazy—"**

"**Yata," the Red King's voice cut through the boy's tirade.**

**Azami understood now how he could be a leader over boys like this and still get his business accomplished. The redhead radiated his air of authority to those around him just like the constant heat that surrounded him and made the green clansman feel suffocated. One word brought Yatagarasu to calm silence, and he stood at attention, ready to accept his King's orders.**

Kusanagi found these interactions interesting as well **and filed it away for later.** Through with the examination, **he gestured at them both, but** asked directly of Yata, "What is this about?"

The boy stood straight like **he had just remembered their original purpose in being there and that he** felt he had accomplished something great in bringing her to them as he proceeded to explain, "Hayashi, Azami came into the bar and said, 'I bet I can convince you in five words not to kill me.'"

This was, of course, his excuse for not having properly defended their domain. Kusanagi could easily assume whatever she said next had adequately convinced him, which was noteworthy. Often, Yata could not be dissuaded by anyone from jumping into a fight for what he perceived as right.

Not needing to hear the rest of the explanation, Kusanagi asked, "What did she say?"

By that point, Azami grew tired of being talked about in her presence and answered for herself by repeating the five words, "**She said, '**Haruna, Emi has been abducted.'"

If it was even doable, Mikoto's frown deepened again. The blond man was so startled he actually took a step backwards. That explained some things. Were these two occurrences possibly related, a single event even? For a second, the possibility crossed his mind that this was the green clan's doing and Azami was their ransom note of sorts. That was just overflow of energy coming off of Mikoto who was slowly starting to boil without much thought to who ought to be the focus of his anger. Right then, it would have been nice if Totsuka had already awakened to keep their hot headed leader calm. He wasn't sure that he would be able to handle it quite as well.

**Pushing aside the desire to act immediately**, Kusanagi inquired further, "How do you know this?"

"**I was on patrol when I saw her get pushed into a car," she recounted. "I chased after them."**

"**You're sure it was her?" the King questioned, if possible, in an even deeper tone, demanding the absolute truth out of her.**

**She nodded resolutely, feeling as though the concrete was heating up beneath her very feet and she might be scorched if she didn't. "I saw her face; recognized it from the pictures."**

"**You said you followed the car," Kusanagi backed them up. "Where did it go?"**

"**How did you keep up with it at all?" Yata added.**

**Azami brushed him off with, "The same way I outran you **_**twice**_**," and then to Kusanagi, "To the Black Clan's territory, the old cemetery. I couldn't follow them after that."**

**Mikoto dropped the butt of his cigarette to the asphalt and crushed it under the toe of his boot as if to conclude the encounter because he was going to leave. That prompted her to quickly go on, "But they're not there anymore. By the time I got down to where I could see them, they had already moved her out of the area."**

**His molten gold eyes narrowed on her and he growled, "Who took her there?"**

**The power in his gaze brought beads of sweat to the back of her neck and she started scratching again to cover the unintentional tremble it brought to her fingers. She looked away, irritated with herself for crumbling, and hoped that it was hidden when she swallowed her nerves. With any luck, they would think it had to do with her allergic reaction. She also sincerely prayed that the soles of her shoes weren't actually melted to the parking lot in case she had to make a quick getaway.**

"**Yakuza—I don't know which syndicate," she admitted.**

"**Youma?" guessed Kusanagi. "They're trying to make a name for themselves right now."**

"**They look more like gangster wannabes than mob bosses," Azami inputted. "These guys looked sharp."**

"**Ichiban?" Kusanagi suggested again. "They're really big in the same area of the city as the Black Clan."**

"**No, I…" All eyes turned to her and Kusanagi thought he saw something flit across her face, like the recollection of a horrible memory. "I know what **_**they**_** look like. It wasn't them."**

**Kusanagi shrugged hopelessly then. Without much more to go on, how were they supposed to pick just one group out of the whole city? Mikoto took in a deep breath letting it out slowly, and it suddenly seemed to Azami that the intensely hot atmosphere dissipated. Had the feelings she had felt from interacting with him been real, or were they just in her head? Regardless of what she thought, he seemed to feel in complete control of the situation around him, and she somewhat marveled at his power again. His eyes drifted then to an upper floor of the hospital building.**

"**You said it already," the King said to his blonde friend.**

"**Hmm?" Kusanagi hummed in confusion.**

"**Only he knows," the redhead clarified.**

"**Ah, maybe he'll remember something that will narrow it down," Kusanagi translated.**

**Mikoto nodded. "But until he wakes up…Yata."**

**Yata held himself high and Azami almost expected him to click his heels and salute. "Hai, Mikoto-san?"**

"**See what you can find around the city."**

"**Hai! I'm on it!"**

**Then, looking directly at Azami once more, he said, "We need that car."**

"**But that's Black Clan territory," she replied without looking back.**

"**They were in Green Clan territory once. They'll come back."**

**She nodded her understanding stiffly. "Hai."**

**He gave a nod in return that she didn't see and then turned to go. Kusanagi followed with the parting words, "Good luck. We're counting on you."**

**Azami allowed a small scoff to pass her lips as she departed in the opposite direction from Yata and began her trek home. She hadn't made it across the street from the parking lot before a skateboard cut in front of her, and Yata stepped off to block her path. Azami found the look of determination on his face amusing and held his glare. His was nothing in comparison to his King.**

"**Look, Hayashi, Mikoto-san doesn't make a request like that from just anyone. He thinks you could be useful. I'm not convinced, but I trust him."**

**Azami snorted. "I don't have to prove anything to you or your King. The Green King's is the only opinion that matters to me."**

"**Yeah, yeah, and I don't really want your help anyway," Yata said and turned to go. Then he paused and spoke over his shoulder, "But Haruna-san is in trouble. These bastards could be hurting her, and I'm not gonna let them get away with it. So don't screw this up."**

**That said, he pushed off and blazed a trail down the street, face set toward his mission with eyes focused. Azami stared after him a few moments and then spared a glance over her shoulder at the hospital before she resumed her route home. She wondered, though, **_**What kind of car was it again?**_

* * *

Somewhat like a wild animal, Mikoto's sleeping habits were opposed to those of typical humans. While he had dozed off in the afternoon, by 10PM—when his two companions were starting to fall asleep—Mikoto was still alert. Even now that they knew who was responsible, Kusanagi kept insisting that they find evidence or Emi's location before simply bursting in on the Black Clan. He thought the blond was really only waiting for the younger boy—something like a backburn against a wildfire—to awaken. That was probably the better plan, but it didn't quell his anger any, just sitting there for hours, watching.

Darkness had settled over the room, casting a cold grey on Totsuka like ash covering charcoal embers. His eternal glow had faded, leaving behind something pale. Beside Mikoto, Anna shivered slightly as her body temperature dropped with the descent into dreams. Just as she had, he too wondered if it could all be so easily fixed just by filling Totsuka with a new supply of fire. Was it even possible to give someone a second portion? Perhaps, for the first time, he thought it might actually have been helpful to know some of the science behind their powers. He had never liked science.

So as not to disturb Anna's sleep, he stood gently and strolled up to the hospital bed. Totsuka had never been difficult to wake up. If you threw something at him, smacked his head, or touched him with something cold, his eyes would always open right up, drooping with fatigue for only a couple seconds. It didn't seem possible for the same boy to be so difficult to rouse now. The first time they had visited him at a hospital, he had been all smiles and jokes. This was a stark contrast to that.

That time, he had dug his knuckles into the head of the injured middle schooler. For some reason, he got the sudden urge to do the same now. The boy was so fragile, so easy to break. As he thought of this, Mikoto spread his hand over Totsuka's face, comparing the size. Ever since the beginning, he had been easily capable of crushing that skull with just his fingers. Someone like that should have been protected. That's what Totsuka always said he had such strong powers for, not that the careless boy had ever accepted to be looked after.

Mikoto let out one of his hoarse moans that resembled a low growl and thoughtlessly released his frustration through tensing his hands. Without realizing that time was passing, he stood there, clutching Totsuka's face until he heard a tiny, muffled voice.

"That hurts." He realized those were the words spoken and looked down in mild surprise. Halfway imagining he had only remembered Totsuka's voice from another occasion, he didn't expect to see an eye between his index and middle finger, barely opened. _That's right; Totsuka had never before said, 'That hurts,' with such little enthusiasm._

When he remembered that, Mikoto took his hand away from his newly awakened friend. He was too tired to even pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile whatsoever, but the sliver of his eyes that could be seen through heavy lids shone with the happiness of waking to his king.

He basically expected Totsuka to chirp, "You found me!" Like a child playing hide-n-seek. Totsuka said nothing, simply struggling to keep his eyes open when they wanted nothing more than to stay totally closed. He didn't even move, turn his head, or smile, just kept blinking slowly and repeatedly.

To break the silence and show concern for his friend, Mikoto knew he should at least say something. All those typical greetings didn't really fit him, though. While he didn't much care about social regulations, he did want Totsuka to be happy. Therefore, he asked the one question that mattered to him.

"What happened?"

Silence followed for quite some time, as if the hospitalized boy were too tired to understand the question. After what seemed like he thought forever, dozing off and then suddenly forcing himself awake, Totsuka responded, "King." His voice was crackly and soft—so much so that it was difficult to hear even in the quiet of the night. Pronouncing the single word had left him breathless, like someone breathing under water. Still, the word itself had carried warmth and joy.

Suspecting that Totsuka was still trying to say more, Mikoto leaned over, closer to his face, so he might hear. The weak voice finished, slowly and lifelessly, "You found me."

The king stood up with a start. This was, indeed, the same boy, the same Totsuka he knew and expected to find. It merely seemed like someone had switched him into super slow motion. He was saying the very things Mikoto guessed he would, but he was late by minutes.

At that point, a little, red hat appeared at the edge of the bed. Then, the small girl put her hands on the mattress by Totsuka's head to pull herself onto her tippy toes to better see. Her presence didn't really contribute to the lacking conversation, but the two both seemed excited to see the other on the inside.

"Tatara." Anna said only his first name.

Recognizing her voice, he wished he had the strength to turn his head to look more directly at her. As it was, he could barely even force his eyes to open, and they were pointed at Mikoto by default. Hearing her voice still made him sigh with some sort of contented relief. _They had found him. They had come to see him. He was alive, and he felt safe._ That alone could make him happy.

He tried to convey this feeling, but wound up raspily whispering nothing more than her first name, "Anna…"

A tall blond came into his line of sight next, standing beside their king with subtle worry on his face. "Kusanagi-san." Totsuka uttered his name as well in gratitude, but the five syllables proved to be too much for him so soon. For a moment he had to focus only on making his heavy chest expand to allow oxygen to enter.

As the only one of his three visitors that was suited for human interaction, it was Kusanagi who finally said something normal, "How are you feeling?"

Still focused on breathing, it was a while before Totsuka raised his weary eyes back to his friends with an answer, "Tired." That seemed to be all he would say, but eventually he added, "And heavy." By this point, he had discovered he was completely unable to move a single one of his limbs, it felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest, and even the light muscles in his face obeyed his commands with difficulty.

The next thing he heard was, "Oi, Totsuka, don't go to sleep. You just woke up." That request came from Kusanagi who was concerned that his eyes had once more slipped closed.

Putting forth a sincere effort to reassure the three, Totsuka looked back at them and asked, "Where's Emi?"

Sadness fell in the room like lead. Kusanagi knew every one of them expected him to give the explanation, but he was reluctant to share bad news like that. The timing wasn't right. Once Totsuka had asked, he had no choice but to tell, however. Even just the hesitation was enough to make the boy worry, knowing something had gone wrong.

"We'll get her back for sure," Kusanagi guaranteed under pressure, rather than explaining the details of what happened. He felt disheartened that the revelation took both warmth and hope from Totsuka's face. The younger boy stopped breathing for a moment as the shock hit him, and then he sank back into slumber.

The room was suddenly hotter. Even though Mikoto wasn't actively using his powers, the heat was just overflowing from him. Because of the Black Clan, Totsuka was in slow motion; he couldn't smile; his girlfriend was gone. Mikoto would never forgive them for this. Unable to take the hospital any longer, the redhead stormed out, in spite of the protests from his friend.

Naturally, Kusanagi's first instinct was to go after the red king, to try to stop him from going over the edge. Anna's voice brought the blond to a halt, however, assuring with the certainty of a fortune teller, "He won't leave."


	9. Behind the Scenes - Fail

_**And here, friends, are a few excerpts from the sewer scene showing some examples of how we nearly failed.**_

* * *

Under the Cemetery – Take One by Arait

They tromped through ankle deep mud for some time as the sewer system spilled out into the excavated grave. It was slow moving by both of their standards, neither being accustomed to the added weight of their feet being laden with the suction properties of slime. Plus, it reeked of waste. Azami thought, if it weren't for her ribs, she would rather pull herself along one of the pipes on the ceiling, even if that meant dangling by her arms the whole trip.

As it was, the best they could do was stick close to the edges, thereby avoiding the liquid that slowly ebbed in the center of the passageway like a tide pool in an oil spill zone. The light on Yata's wristwatch was bright, but it didn't cast far enough to brighten the whole tunnel, leaving strange shadows against the walls. More than once they thought the had seen motion or the person they were trying to track, only to discover it had been nothing more than an unusual impression in the soil.

Once the tunnel's construction switched from hollowed ground to man-made cement, they no longer saw figures on the smooth walls, but it startled them both the first time a rat scurried out of their path into the water. Obviously, the place wasn't disgusting enough without the addition of diseased rodents. They really shouldn't have been surprised, since rats were always drawn to sources of moist filth. Still, no one actually liked to see them.

Gradually the silty mud lessened the farther away they moved from the grave. Instead, they continued through a mixture of sewer water and whatever drained in from the gutters on the streets, splashing with each step they took. To distract her mind from the awful stench, Azami tried to recall if she ever learned any techniques for not causing splatter when walking.

_**~~~Keep these first paragraphs in mind to understand the first conflict~~~**_

Another shadow moved just outside the reaches of their flashlight, much too large to be a rat. Yata directed the glow of his watch further up, catching just a glimpse of sneakers fleeing out of sight. "There he is!" The vanguard shouted and took off in pursuit, with Azami keeping not even a full step behind him. They still had no idea who this person in the sewer was, but he was their only lead.

He was fast, maybe even faster than them. Speed and a head start don't do much good against a dead-end, however. They managed to corner him between a barred gate and a door with a keyed access pad. He had been trying to unlock the door but froze when they rounded the corner on him. In the center of Yata's light now, the two teens got their first clear look at the young man's appearance.

Tall, slender, and lanky, he was obviously not one of the black clansmen. That was easy to tell by his wardrobe—converse sneakers, jeans, and a zip-up, white hoodie with thin black stripes. The jacket was several sizes too large just to get the sleeves to fit his lengthy arms. Combine that with the strange coloration of his face under the artificial light in the dark environment, and the word "frail" came to mind. This guy looked nothing like the threatening warriors they were looking for.

Not "harmless," though. Azami thought that maybe she had seen him before, and the memory quickly came back to her. He had been on the news, as well as part of the scoop her fellow clansman Kazuki had dug up the day she left. "That's the strain that escaped Scepter 4 custody," she revealed, figuring the information might be useful.

Yata turned to her, questioning scornfully, "Do you know what's going on in _every_ clan?"

When he looked away, the strain took his chance while no eyes were upon him. Whipping a knife from his pocket, he lunged toward the inattentive teens. Even though Yata sensed the rapidly approaching motion and dodged backward, the blade still caught the edge of his shoulder. He hissed and stumbled from surprise at the unexpected attack. Catching himself on the wall, he grit his teeth to swallow the pain and stepped outside of strike range until he could assess the situation.

_**~~~Arait doesn't write Azami, so she stopped here and asked Kateracks to write a small section about Azami's fears. Section that would inevitably change many things.~~~**_

One would think the red clansman would be an amusing sight fighting against someone as tall as this strain, but he somehow managed to not look like a child. The fluidity of his style was not diminished in the least by his inability to use the skateboard in standing water, and moves seemed to come to him as naturally as before. Without inhibition, he attacked with all his heart. That is why his fire was so strong.

As such an inexperienced wielder, the strain was more of a danger to himself with that knife than he was to Yata. The agile boy could easily duck beneath the wild slashes made at him without control, and he more than once responded by jamming a flame engulfed elbow into the man's side.

It wasn't long before he had pressed the strain against the gate, prying the pocket knife out of his hand. "Where is the Black Clan's hideout?" He demanded, fury clearly displayed in the red-hot color that the blade took in his hand. When the captive didn't answer immediately, Yata shoved him harder against the metal bars and raised his voice, "Where is Haruna-san?"

Still, the scrawny man didn't reveal any information, or even give the impression that he knew the answers Yata sought. He simply smirked, grinning like he had something up his sleeve the other didn't yet know about. A moment later, his body shimmered slightly in Yata's hands. It appeared to shrink into a two dimensional wisp and slipped through the bars, materializing again on the other side. As much as it seemed like an illusion, Yata's arm was definitely stuck between two bars because his iron fist hadn't let go of the strain's jacket during the transformation.

Then, even as Yata tried to melt the gate between them that he was trapped in, the man easily pulled out of his grip and slipped away, smugly walking like some sort of slinky. Yata lost his temper at the defeat, but there was nothing he could do so long as his arm was stuck between the metal bars that he was shaking violently. Finally one snapped from the power of his fire, and he retrieved his arm, convinced the only way to follow the strain was to break down the rest of the gate, no matter how long it took him.

* * *

Under the Cemetery – Take Two by Kateracks

He had begun to accept the fact that there were no ghosts—not here, at least—and he had made a fool of himself. He climbed in and Azami followed close. To get to the tunnel below, they actually had to clamber down through a hole in the grave and into the chamber below. A ladder had been placed from one point to the other, but whoever had done so had not cleaned out the casket. The occupant was still inside, though at this point he was only bare bones, but Azami didn't doubt it would still freak Yata out. With her above him, he would keep his focus solely on the ladder and probably not notice.

Below it was much more humid and the rock under their shoes felt slimy. Somewhere in the distance was running water and it could be heard dripping into puddles around them. Azami covered her face with her hand.

"Ugh! What reeks?"

"Hang on," Yata said from the dark beside her and a moment later, the glow from his watch expanded into a bright flashlight. From writing scrawled on the wall he could discern, "It's the sewer!"

"They could be anywhere in this network!" Azami complained.

"I'll download the city blueprints," echoed from Yata's watch and they both started at the unexpected noise in the dark.

"Maybe put a rush on that," Azami suggested while she tried not to gag on the air.

_**~~~Uh oh! Conflict! Did Arait start writing too soon or Kateracks go too far? But one says they tromped around in the dirt for a while, and the other goes directly into sewer tunnels. That's pretty hard to reconcile, but it gets even worse when Kateracks wrote her next section about Azami's fears...~~~**_

The noise was deafening in the enclosed concrete space of the tunnel and the muzzle flash was blinding in the deep shadow. Azami saw shapes moved among the kaleidoscope of stars with the aid of Yata's bouncing light. Then images started playing in front of her eyes and it was hard to tell reality.

_He swallowed a bullet…_

_That was a coward's escape…_

_Guns…it requires no skill to walk into a crowded street and hose people down._

A fine red mist sprayed from Yata's shoulder as the bullet fired grazed his skin. Azami's heart sped up as tendrils of liquid weaved down his arm toward the light of his watch. She felt her lips move, but she didn't hear herself yell "Yata!" over the ringing in her ears. He staggered out of the way, but the strain must have heard her. He glared at her over his shoulder and his body twisted around in an odd flowing manner that resulted in her getting a kick to the chest despite her being about five feet away. Her sneakers slipped in the grime and the contusions on her back screamed when they slammed into the ground.

_I'm sorry. He got caught in the crossfire._

_He was pale. Too pale. Deathly pale. The dark red wetting the sheets underneath his prone figure and soaking through each gauze pad pressed onto his wounds proved just how accurate the description was._

_Get the paddles in here now! The boy on the gurney jerked from the shock, but did not respond._

_Some things you just can't control._

_Back to the wind, sis._

_We've only got each other, but that's all we need. Right, Azami? Azami?_

Their stretchy foe stood over her then and aimed his handgun at her head. Azami raised shaky hands in the universal "I'm unarmed" sign, but that didn't seem to matter to the tall boy. The barrel created a cold ring against the sweaty skin of her forehead.

_He was caught in the crossfire of a gang war._

_No pulse._

_He's gone._

"Hayashi!" A flaming foot came out of nowhere and smashed into the rubbery head before Yata's confused and enraged face came into view. "What are you _doing_? Get up! We can take him!"

* * *

_**~~~Say what?! Didn't the other section say the weapon was a knife? Apparently, when Arait requested this section written, we weren't exactly clear on what was going on! Apparently, Arait did think Kateracks had said there were already too many guns in the K universe. And for some reason, Kateracks had gotten the impression that Arait had rejected the idea of using knives.**_

_**Well, somehow we did manage to combine these into something that made sense. It certainly was not easy by any means.~~~**_

_**Stay tuned for next time where two authors try to write the same prompt!**_


	10. Behind the Scenes - Same Prompt

_**Ah! Arait does not know if this should be considered funny or sad, but of all the people who read chapter nine of this story, only 2 noticed chapter 8! That was our example of successful co-writing! That said, please go back and enjoy it. And now, for the final Behind the Scenes chapter (Arait thinks).**_

_**~~~This is a clear example of what happens when you give both Arait and Kateracks a prompt and let them both write the same thing. Please enjoy both the similarities and the differences in our writing styles. Be entertained by the conflicting first drafts.~~~**_

* * *

**Azami and Totsuka's First Meeting – Take One by Arait**

Noticing that having displayed a bit of his own anger got the younger boy somewhat riled up—color returning to his face for the first time since the incident—Kusanagi persisted by beginning the chant of their clan's motto, "No blood!"

He deliberately left off there, allowing Totsuka to finish it weakly with a tiny smile, "No bone, no ash." Halfway through the final word, however, he muttered an embarrassed, "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" The bartender asked, concern clear in his tone.

"I forgot to tell her."

"You forgot to tell her what?"

"About the fire," Totsuka revealed. After that night when he had promised Mikoto that he would for sure tell Emi about their powers he had totally forgotten it. No particularly convenient times had presented themselves, and nothing had reminded him that he needed to tell Emi he was more than a normal boy. She would know for sure when they rescued her, though.

"You forgot to…" Kusanagi repeated, bewildered by the mistake. "So many months…" They were both thinking the same exact thing: _She is going to be so pissed._

While they sat there, pondering the frightful wrath of a woman who had been lied to, the bell at the front door rang as if someone had opened the door urgently. Expecting someone had come back with a report, Kusanagi returned to his feet and looked across the bar at the newcomer. Approaching the counter quickly, a petite girl clad in green sat down on one of the barstools as if she belonged there.

"Have I got news for you," she announced, with as much of a grin as the serious conditions surrounding the matter would allow. She was excited. That was easy to tell.

"You're starting to feel comfortable around here, aren't you, Hayashi, Azami?" The bartender remarked about the way she was leaning her elbows on his counter just the same as another boy he knew would.

From that angle, Azami could easily see behind the man and caught sight of Totsuka sitting on the floor. It had been logical for the owner of the bar to be ducked behind the counter, possibly getting into lower cupboards, but now she could tell that whatever Kusanagi had been doing was related to the younger boy.

For this reason, she responded in kind to the blond, "Oh…? Have I interrupted something? I thought we were trying to save a girlfriend. What's all this?"

"You're hilarious…" Kusanagi's humor was dry, reminding her this was no time to play.

"I'm here to serve." The mock bow gesture she gave made it difficult to tell if she was still joking, but she soon after got down to business. "We know where she is. At the—"

Kusanagi cut her off, "Don't say another word." He had already taken out his phone and began dialing numbers as he walked off.

Totsuka knew he was going to the storage room and who he was going to call when he got there. It was clear by the look on the face of the green clan member that she didn't, so he explained, "He went to call the rest of our clan. They'll want to hear this too." After she barely acknowledged this, he decided he wanted to stand, commenting to himself, "I probably should find a better place to sit, shouldn't I?"

Azami watched curiously as Totsuka first seemed to get dizzy, and then had his knees buckle on the second step. Her eyes widened when he nearly didn't catch himself on the counter, and she scurried to his side. She didn't need to offer her assistance, though, as he basically fell on her. Once she had shifted around to better accommodate the weight, she began guiding him towards the couch.

"What happened to you?" She inquired, somewhat roughly. His forced smile made the answer obvious enough. The attackers in the picture must have gotten to him as well. Two things confused her, however. First, she hadn't seen him there when she had chased the yakuza's car. It was easy to assume he was simply attacked separately from her to resolve that issue. Secondly, other than being exhausted, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him.

* * *

**Azami and Totsuka's First Meeting – Take Two by Kateracks**

Kusanagi looked up as the bell above the door chimed a guest had arrived. Instead of a potential customer, though, he instead saw the black and neon green combination that he had become accustomed to recognizing as Hayashi Azami. She looked rather worse for the wear; her hair was not done with its usual flare, her sweaty physique and slumped posture told a story of how she could have quite possibly gone to hell and back to get there, and her face sported a deep scowl.

She slammed a bottle of liquid down on the top of his bar with a huff. Shooting her an irritated look, he then glanced at the label to see what was in the offending jug: unscented laundry detergent. Not a second later, he caught a whiff of something awful and nearly voiced how he thought she may need the added relief of a fragrant aroma. But, after seeing her allergy at work, he settled for something less offensive.

"You're starting to feel comfortable around here, aren't you, Hayashi, Azami?" He remarked about the way she was leaning her elbows on his counter just the same as another boy he knew would. From the lack of urgency in her body language, he decided to stay crouched by Totsuka.

From that angle, Azami could easily see behind the man and caught sight of Totsuka sitting on the floor. It had been logical for the owner of the bar to be ducked behind the counter, possibly getting into lower cupboards, but now she could tell that whatever Kusanagi had been doing was related to the younger boy.

For this reason, she responded in kind to the blond, "Oh…? Have I interrupted something? I thought we were trying to save a girlfriend. What's all this?"

"You're hilarious…" Kusanagi's humor was dry, reminding her this was no time to play.

"I'm here to serve."

The mock bow gesture she gave made it difficult to tell if she was still joking. As she stepped around the bar, though, her cocky attitude dissipated and she crouched next to Kusanagi, concern at Totsuka's still ashen skin lacing her face.

"Damn, man, what are you even doing out of bed?

Totsuka looked up then with a weak smile on his face, but lacking the necessary luster in his eyes. He hadn't met this girl before, but he had picked up bits and pieces about her from half-heard conversations. Kusanagi had even mentioned offhandedly once how she had gotten involved in the search for Emi so he diverted around the normal wariness of first time meetings and went straight to friendly, in spite of his now having noticed what the wrinkle in the bartender's nose had been about.

"I'm fine. Do you have anything to report, Hayashi-san?"

Azami met Kusanagi's gaze with her own and then admitted, "Yeah, I've got some good news for you, but maybe we should get you in a chair first. Come on, lean on me."

She handed the bowl of noodles to Kusanagi and he felt a strange mix of inconsiderateness, weakness, and awkwardness as he watched a _girl_ who wasn't even of their own clan sling his friend's arm around her shoulders and heft him up so she could limp him over to one of the sofas. In the end, he justified himself by concluding that Azami's motherly instincts had reacted faster than his friendship ones.

As they passed the doorway which led to the stairs to the second floor, heavy footsteps and a powerful presence drew the girl's attention. Mikoto stood in the entryway for a moment, looking at his friend being mostly carried by their unexpected addition with a bit of confusion. Azami felt fire race from head to toe as his amber eyes burned into her and she ducked her head so that her hair fell to hide her face while she urged Totsuka onward.

"Good afternoon, Red King," she said so that she appeared less intimidated.

Totsuka attempted a fond smile up at the redhead as the girl sat him on the couch. "King, Hayashi-san has news on the whereabouts of Emi-chan."

Mikoto hummed an acknowledgment that preceded the blunt question, "What died?"

Totsuka's smile turned almost apologetic when he directed it to Azami and she could almost swear she saw a sweatdrop forming on his head. "King, we were trying to be discreet."

Suoh sank into the sofa opposite the blond and shrugged in a manner that said, _Did you expect me to play dumb and lie?..._

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_**~~~And you all know how it really turned out.~~~**_

_**Please look forward to a sequel sneak peak next chapter!**_


	11. Consequences - Fushimi vs Ninja II

_**Just because we enjoy imitating GoRA's style in our writing, this is a scene selected at random from our sequel to WFT A Growing World to serve as a preview. As was suggested in one of the reviews, AGW will not focus as heavily on the red clan, but never fear. All of your favorite characters will still be featured in some way or another. Hope you enjoy this excerpt.**_

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Still dressed casually in his "undercover uniform," Fushimi paced back and forth through the foyer of Shizume City's main hospital. _Scepter 4 really did make his life most miserable,_ he thought with a frustrated sigh. Since their arrival, he hadn't had a moment to stop, a moment to check on Akihime. He nearly got a chance to ask himself where that idea had even come from when a female voice came through the terminal pressed against his ear.

"Sorry for the wait, Sir. How may I help you?" She asked pleasantly.

His steps faltered. This was so obviously the secretary he had spoken to when he first called the number. He had no idea why the captain had given him the responsibility of contacting Akihime's family. He _hated_ phones; he _hated_ communicating; he _hated_ family. There couldn't have been a worse choice for the job. Yet Munakata had given him the task with his same, sickening, omniscient smile he had worn every time he assigned his subordinate something that day.

This was the third phone call Fushimi had made and the first that did not go straight to voicemail. Although, with how much trouble they had given him so far, he basically wished he could have just left a message this time also. The secretary who just spoke had also originally answered the phone. She had been polite in agreeing to transfer him to Hotaru-san's extension.

The executive also had answered cordially. That was where things started to turn sour.

Introductions: "G'day, Hotaru-san, this is Fushimi, Saruhiko with Scepter 4."

"Excuse me? Where are you from?" The man replied as if he'd never heard of the Fourth Annex of the Legal Affairs Bureau's Family Register Section before.

Trying not to grumble aloud at the evidence of her parent's neglect toward her, Fushimi clarified, "Your daughter's work."

Hotaru acknowledged them then, but when the young man explained that his daughter was in the hospital, he didn't show much concern. In fact, he experienced a sudden interruption and put Fushimi on hold. _As if something could possibly happen at work that would be more important than your child's hospitalization._ He waited, impatiently.

He didn't bother to keep the phone to his ear then. They left him on hold for 30 minutes. With nothing better to do while he waited, Fushimi dropped onto a couch in the lobby, set the phone beside him with the loud speaker turned on, and stared out the window. The person who finally picked up the receiver again was not even in the same division of the company as Hotaru.

When they started transferring him all over the place was when Fushimi started pacing. He really could not tolerate white collar diplomatics. After he had explained the same story word-for-word to four different people in four different departments, he found himself transferred back to the same secretary he had talked to at first. She was quick to apologize when he explained the situation and promised to transfer him to Hotaru right away.

So frustrated by the phone call, Fushimi was oblivious to his surroundings. He collided with a dark haired girl on crutches that was entering the hospital. Not paying her much heed, he mumbled a less than concerned, "'scuse me."

The phone picked up again, and the secretary explained, "I'm sorry, Hotaru-san really is very busy right now. I'm going to put you through to his voicemail."

Fushimi sighed. After the run-around they put him through, he really would have preferred just leaving a message from the start. He prepared his words while the phone rang and waited for the beep to cue him. Right when it was time to speak, the sound of hate cut through the room.

"You bastard," the words growled a title that Fushimi was familiar with being called by that point.

_Ah, Misaki's here,_ he thought, turning toward the source of the insult. There was no chestnut haired skater in the lobby, however. The bitter accusation came instead from the aforementioned girl on crutches. Puzzled, Fushimi glanced around to make sure she wasn't yelling at someone else, but they were the only two people around.

Completely confused, he asked dumbly, "Hah?" What did this random person have against him?

"Ergh," her complaint sounded as if anger could burst forth any moment, "after what you did, you don't even recognize me."

His eyes widened just slightly at the thought that he should have recognized this girl that he considered a stranger. If she was about to attack him, he should probably try to remember what he did. _Not that she could beat him in that condition anyways..._ She was all black. That should have been a clue to him. From her coal colored hair that didn't even reflect light and her eyes that resembled abysses, to the jogging suit she wore—not for looks but for the comfort of her injured leg—it was all black. She seemed like the dark cloud that hung over the head of depressed people on particularly bad days.

It wasn't ringing any bells with the blue clansman. Deciding things were about to get heated, he hung up the phone without leaving a message and slid it into his pocket. "What's your problem?" He demanded.

Shocked by his remorseless attitude, she repeated his words. "What's my...what's my problem? This!" She gestured to herself, lifting her crutches to emphasize them and the brace on one leg that went from mid-thigh to mid-calf.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at her. If it was that important a confrontation, he would surely have remembered her. He'd say she was mistaken, but it wasn't like he had a common appearance to confuse or that he was unlikely to have hurt someone. Still, when he thought of people he had fought or wronged recently, there was nothing similar to this story. Even if there had been one or more girls, she wasn't among the list.

Well, if he couldn't recall, then it obviously hadn't mattered.

With an insincere look, he shrugged and offered, "Sorry 'bout your leg."

She was no more convinced than he was apologetic. "You think that's enough? That if you say 'sorry,' I'll just forgive you? Asshole. I was in a wheelchair for three months. I couldn't walk on my own for nine."

He got the impression that she wasn't used to cussing. It hadn't sounded natural. As she continued ranting, a crowd of bystanders began to develop, and he knew soon this would become a scene. Normally, by this point, he would have just walked away, but something about the little ray of sunshine made him think it would be bad to turn his back to her. So he dug deeper into his memory. Even if a whole year had passed, though, he still hadn't encountered anyone like her.

One phrase in the girl's monologue caught Fushimi's less-than-attentive ear: "Haruna, Emi." It all came back then.

"Seriously?" He mocked in disbelief. "Tch." That had been three years ago. This was the ninja from the Black Clan who had tried to kill him. He didn't think she had any right to be complaining that he defended himself. There was a two year gap between the time she said it took her to walk unaided and today, in the hospital still bummed up.

"I suppose you've _destroyed_ so many people since then you can't even tell them apart," she derided in pure hatred.

Fushimi deadpanned. "You were wearing a mask."

"Which you went through the trouble of removing. Was that not specifically to remember my face?"

That had been Hayashi's doing with a misplaced concern that their enemy would live. It still bothered him that she wanted to treat the wounds of someone who tried to kill them while they were still in the middle of their war. Of course, he would never let this ninja see his frustration.

With a shrug, he replied, "Didn't see it."

"Liar," the girl muttered.

His response was an obviously artificial laugh. "Ha, like you're an honest person who fights fair!"

"This isn't about our fight!" She shot back. "It's about afterwards when you mercilessly slayed a defenseless girl!"

Fushimi didn't argue that he hadn't _slain_ her at all, or that she had gotten better within a year. He didn't insist that she was far from defenseless. He wasn't the kind who felt obligated to justify his actions as morally correct. Nor did he point out her terrible grammar just for the sake of provoking a fight as he might have with Misaki. Above all, he certainly couldn't care less about the vendetta of a washed-up Black Clansman on crutches.

Without missing a beat, he sneered, "That _was_ our fight!"

Grabbing the front of his jacket in some sort of desperate, resentful frenzy, the girl described, "The Black Clan wasn't ever a family like Homra, taking care of one another, no matter what comes! If you can't perform to par, you're out. I still can't get back!"

Fushimi thought she must not be aware that he was no longer a part of Homra if that was how she intended to make him feel bad. Completely unmoved by her sob story, he responded demeaningly, "Homra never really was a family." After all, hadn't they completely broken up for a time after Suoh, Mikoto's death?

The combative attitude she had shown before was quickly wearing into something hopeless, "I...I've never been anything but a ninja."

"So the reason your leg hasn't healed," Fushimi deduced, cutting her story short, "is because you keep training too hard until you injure it all over again? You should sit and let it heal properly." She tried to protest then, but he prevented her, continuing as if he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, "You do realize we completely devastated your clan that day? There was no organization left. Scepter 4 even convinced your king to renounce her throne because of the damaged state of her Sword of Damocles. What are you trying so hard to go back to?"

Not knowing what to say then, she mumbled incomprehensibly to the floor like he had just shredded the little part of her that still bore the title, "Black Ninja."

Annoyed by her lack of conviction, Fushimi clicked his tongue. "If you'd just stop living in the past, your leg would get better just fine." He found himself rubbing guiltily at a particular scar on his collarbone that also hadn't healed in over three years as a voice accused in the back of his mind, _hypocrite._

That irritated him even further, so to avoid the nagging culpability he turned his back on the ex-ninja, his _former_ opponent who _used_ to be a threat, thinking somehow, if he didn't have to deal with her, he could run from his own conscience. It was living in denial, but he would never admit that he knew that to be true. He would never acknowledge that his actions could have lasting consequences on others.

He heard the whoosh of a crutch displacing air as it was swung at his head. Ducking, he faced the ex-ninja who had summoned her black aura in a hospital lobby. _So she could still use it,_ he concluded while she slashed at him again as if the crutch were the staff she fought him with last time. The power that came from him naturally in return was a shimmering blue. He didn't bother to draw his sword. Using that moment of surprise when she realized his color had changed, he ripped the crutch from her grasp and whirled her around with her hand behind her back so that movement was limited.

With a growl in his voice, he questioned, "What made you think—when you couldn't beat me last time—you'd have more success disabled? Here's some advice: the strong grow more powerful; the weak get left behind."

Shoving her away then, he walked off and didn't look back.

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_**See you next Thursday for the release of A Growing World's first chapter The Substitute Special Duty Corps.**_


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